


The Discerning Affairs of Mr. Fell and Mr. Starbright

by Solimette, WaldosAkimbo



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Drinking, Embarrassing moments, Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff, Frottage, Human AU, Intercrural Sex, Lazarus the Horse, M/M, Pining, Regency Era AU, Smut, Starcrossed Lovers, Tags May Change, Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), Yearning, angst with happy ending, oh the goats are a delight, shadwell smokes a pipe, the animals hate Crowley, you might fall in love with everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 150,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solimette/pseuds/Solimette, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: As discovered at a ball to win the favor of a young woman in high standing, two gentlemen make their acquaintance. Mr. Fell is there with his mother to find a wife, and Mr. Starbright is there with his brother to do the same.They, as these things go, do not in fact find a wife. They find each other.And the adventures that follow.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 312
Kudos: 363
Collections: Gather Ye Sinners for GOmens RP Collection, Good Omens Human AUs, Ixnael’s Recommendations





	1. The Connolly Ball

**Author's Note:**

> A story written with the wonderful Solimette in the Gather Ye Sinners for RP GOmens server on discord.
> 
> A very large portion of this is written and there is an ending already planned. I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note: drinking wine out on the balcony in this chapter.

The air was buzzing with music, conversations and an overly light atmosphere, pairs spinning around each other on the dance floor. Everyone seemed like they enjoyed themselves immensely with all the dancing, drinking and what not, which made a fair blond man just slightly more uncomfortable than he already was.

He was standing a bit to the side, watching the dancers for a moment and allowing himself to sigh a little. Aziraphale was glad that he had managed to politely talk his way out of this round of dancing. It wasn’t that he was particularly bad at it, he was passable at least but just the whole ordeal of his attendance at this ball was the problem.

He watched his former dance partner, a young lady named Emily Connolly, swirl around with another admirer of hers and hoped dearly that she would be occupied for quite some time. It could have been a nice evening full of good food, wine, and conversing but Aziraphale had to be here for the reason of getting a chance to court the young and, most importantly for his family, rich Miss Connolly.

When Aziraphale was sure that her attention was set fully on her dance partner, he slipped away from the crowd around the edge of the dance floor, fetching a glass of wine on his escape and settled himself on a small chair in another room where people were mostly talking amongst their known associates. He took a deep breath and let his gaze wander over the other guests. He was sure that his parents were somewhere near the hosts, circling them like wasps to get the chance of forging good connections. Aziraphale took a gulp of his wine and tried not to think about that. He just wanted to get his mind onto something else as his eyes were dragged to something red amongst the crowd. He blinked and tried to focus on the sudden flash of color amongst the mostly dark and white clothed people.

What a strange turn of events.

Crowley thought differently on the matter.

If he was to be dragged directly across the floor, at the very least tempt him with a drink and good conversation. But  _ no _ , his brother was not one for such frivolities, was he? Always too set on the end game, the final goal, the deliberate approval of their parents. Was it because he was the heir to their name and fortune? Was that it? Was that all there was to life for him? Crowley sighed as Hastur tugged harder, like they were about to race.

"Alright, but I can't really  _ dance _ with whomever it is Father picked this time if you won't  _ let go _ ," Crowley grumbled, almost tripping. It was a good deal he was light on his feet and bobbed down amongst the crowd before he popped back up again. "Hastur? Are you even listening to me?"

"Generally, no," Hastur answered, his voice a grating grumble that cut through the annoyingly light and lilting music. He was hoping they'd attempt something more robust. God forbid they play a nice quick waltz around the room, hmm? But then one of these little ladies in their tight gowns and their billowy hair styles might faint and, god forbid, he might be inclined to catch them. So, he crossed the room with Hastur, who had his eyes set on another lord – a bloody duke, even! – who had familiar relations with his brother.

The red hair, as Aziraphale had managed to identify, just disappeared behind another crowd. It was a pleasant distraction from all of the ball-nonsense, since he’d never seen such a hue. As he was still wondering if he had ever known someone with hair like this, he was startled by a familiar angry huff beside him, followed by an equally angry, “What are you doing here, Aziraphale? Where is Ms. Connolly?”

Aziraphale winced a little and turned to the voice, coming from his mother who seemed to be furious. 

“I…ahm, I was just taking a short breather, grabbing something to drink to get at it again in just a tic.” 

He tried to sound collected and not like he just had a small heart attack, but he knew that he had no chance to get through with it. He just smiled at her and stood up, trying to get an excuse out so he wouldn’t have to go back, but she was already grabbing him and pulling him along into another room with her.

“She’s already dancing with someone else, so you’ll have to make the best out of it and talk a bit to her father,” she hissed while maneuvering through the people with a very unhappy Aziraphale behind her.

“Is this really necessary Mother? I mean, he’s a very fine gentleman and all but he’s the host and I bet he’s quite occupied so I really wouldn’t like to intrude or….”

He had no chance to finish before he was discreetly shoved in the direction of a noble looking man who was already in conversation with other very interested parties.

Aziraphale waited politely. Even though he didn't want to be here in the first place, he knew his manners. When he finally found an entrance to the conversation with Mr. Connolly, he had his attention was drawn away again, catching that interesting shade of red right behind the host of all of this. It belonged to a man who was also pulled through the crowd by another, presumably a good friend or family member by the way they moved. Aziraphale felt a surge of sympathy at the display but was reeled back in to the conversation he just had entered.

"You're a right bastard," Crowley hissed, earning a pinch as a warning from Hastur, who had lugged him over to stand near a group of men all chatting up the host. He looked fine enough, old. Stodgy. Put together, but ultimately so  _ boring. _ Just the same with his daughter, who was hopefully supposed to have a chance with Crowley later, if their parents played all their cards right. But she was just as boring as her father, wasn't she?

That was probably unfair. Crowley was just tired of these balls and useless dances and propriety and all that. Even worse when Ligur attended, because Hastur always had to go over and say hello, didn't he? And drag Crowley with him, turning him into worst facsimile of a wet blanket.

Crowley sighed, put out, and rolled his eyes as he caught a shorter fellow with the softest and boldest white hair he had ever seen for someone who appeared to be as young as he was, standing across the way from Mr. Connolly. Crowley found himself locked on the man, if a moment, having a damn difficult time dragging his eyes away, even on Hastur's annoying insistence.

Nobody was having a grand time keeping attention on whomever was in their party.

It was hard to stick to the conversation, since the man Aziraphale couldn't recall ever seeing before was standing in his line of sight and, honestly, everything was more interesting than the ever ongoing topic of business and fine daughters that was carried out by the gentlemen nearby. 

It didn't help that the red-head was looking his way from time to time, and was his companion talking to Duke Ligur? So they must have been quite high up in society….

Aziraphale realized that he was staring straight at him now and flushed a little. How inappropriate. He wanted to turn away but the other man just looked around and at Aziraphale and the latter felt quite like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Aziraphale didn't know what else he could do, so he tried a nervous smile. Before it could turn any more awkward, the young Miss Connolly made an appearance. Aziraphale never felt so relieved to see her since the beginning of this evening.

"Ah, there's my lovely Emily. I heard Mr. Fell here already introduced himself to you..."

Aziraphale took a short and polite bow at the young lady's appearance and just kept on listening to Mr. Connollys ongoing speech about other guests and people his daughter just  _ had  _ to meet. Aziraphale just hoped that the red haired man, now behind him, hadn’t really caught him staring.

It was almost like a game, which kept Crowley's interest more than politics did. He continued to look away and back again to see if he could finally catch the man staring at him. Nine times out of ten, it seemed. And the last time, the man was blushing. Crowley smiled, letting it curl up in impish delight, when Duke Ligur said something that made his brother burst into a fit of short, manic laughter. Crowley was embarrassed for him. Except that Ligur and Hastur were such good friends, they didn't think to be embarrassed about it at all.

"Sorry, what was that?" Crowley leaned in a little when he realized Mr. Connolly had been talking to him.

And it was repeated, "Emily hasn't had a chance to dance with you yet, I don't think."

"Oh, eh. Well, y-yeah, no. Pr'bly not." 

He was stumbling over his words again! Oh, what would Father say about bloody diction and presenting himself like...well, it wasn't his fault! The handsome gentleman over there looking bright as the sun with flushed cheeks and everything? Completely out of sorts! Crowley cleared his throat and decided to pull himself together,  _ damnit, _ if only to show off he could be smooth. As. Hell.

"Sorry, yes. A dance? Love to." And he winked as he pulled Emily away to join the next four-square hippity hop nonsense they are passing for entertainment these days.

Before Aziraphale had a chance to ask who that  _ dashing _ , er, unknown gentleman was, he was discreetly jabbed in the ribs by his mother's elbow.

"What are you doing? Don't stand around here doing nothing and getting her snatched away right under your nose, follow them!"

Well, that was one of her better ideas actually, since Aziraphale was eager to see how that mysterious man moved around on the dance floor. Just to check the 'competition's' skills of course. It also brought a distance between him and his mother’s bickering. 

So, he made his way back to the cheerful music and the giggling pairs, trying to slow his pace so he didn't seem too eager to follow the man who was having his dance with Emily. He found a nice spot where he could oversee most of the area. Aziraphale spotted the pair and just noticed that the man wore tinted glasses. Inside. In the evening. It was strange but in a very delightful and interesting way. Aziraphale forgot his embarrassment from before and started staring openly again.

Emily didn't find it very amusing when Crowley slid them back on, but he  _ liked _ his glasses and he felt like he was safer with them, insofar that it stopped him from obviously letting his eyes meander the crowd for something that was, as he liked to put it, interesting.

That fluffy scrumptious blonde from earlier, as a matter of fact. He was  _ interesting. _

"Right, you two? Plus me? Perfect," Crowley crooned and followed the patterns generally drilled into them as they started up the dance. He bobbed away, back in again, touching hands and immediately pulling back, as he did not entirely  _ like _ touching strangers hands. It was a thing. It didn't matter. It was just annoying. And he definitely didn't roll his eyes behind his little mirrored glasses or let his head hang back at a defeated slope as he was brought back in to their four-person formation for a little ditty spin.

Crowley was light on his feet and heavy in his spirits.

Like he had assumed earlier, the redhead was a solid dancer and looked far more graceful than what Aziraphale managed. There was something about this dance that seemed a tad bit stiff but that could just be Aziraphale’s imagination, he supposed. No tall of them were the sweeping grand gestures or rousing little hops around the room.

He still didn't know who the stranger was and it started to bug Aziraphale in the back of his mind. It looked like he was trying to get Emily's affection as well, so he couldn't just walk up to him and ask bluntly; he had some standards.

He could ask his companion though, that was an appropriate approach! So Aziraphale made his way through the crowd, searching for a sign of Duke Ligur or the other man. He didn't have to search for too long, hearing that barking laughter again from a corner in one of the smaller rooms. It must have been a lucky moment, since an opening was presenting itself when Ligur was actually engaged in another conversation, so it was appropriate for Aziraphale to approach the other man.

"Good evening sir. It's a lovely evening, isn't it? I don't think we had the pleasure of meeting in the past. I'm Aziraphale Fell."

Aziraphale bowed slightly and put a friendly smile on his face.

Hastur glanced over at Aziraphale, his nose almost stuck tilted upwards. He had surprisingly dark eyes with bruised bags underneath each and a birthmark up near his temple that was mottled and dark. He had a pinched mouth, a tight cravat around his throat, a stiff waistcoat and a wrinkled shirt, which he seemed perpetually pertained to tugging at out of an obsessive habit. 

"Evening," he answered, stuck with witnesses around so he couldn't be completely rude. Duke Ligur saved them the worst of Hastur's indifference, as he came over and touched Hastur's side. It stopped Hastur from plucking at his sleeves. 

"Hastur, they've a frog in the - oh. Hello. You're...Fell's son, yes? Enjoying yourself? This bastard isn't being too...bastardly?"

"Eloquent as ever," Hastur answered, even if he had a twitch of a smile tugging at that tight, angry mouth.

Oh  _ lovely _ , the fellow was as pleasant as an English summer with lots of rain and an average temperature under 10°. Aziraphale was used to unfriendly and cold behavior and he just kept up his polite, friendly expression, but he was thankful for Ligur's interference.

"Duke Ligur." He bowed again, a tad deeper than before. "Yes, I'm his youngest, actually. Your friend here didn't have enough time to... ahm, actually leave any impression so far and I was just wondering who he and his companion are. I don’t think we actually ever met until tonight.”

"We don't generally  _ do _ anything with the Fells," Hastur answered, meaning that their families trades and business ran opposite of each other and only came together during friendly – and sometimes very unfriendly – business feuds. 

"Hastur, have you any manners?" Ligur teased again, jabbing that tall pale fellow with his elbow. "He doesn't," Ligur answered himself. "This is Hastur. I'm certain you've seen his obnoxious little brother Crowley around here somewhere. They're Starbrights, with Starbright Foundries, Starbright Productions and Management, and Starbright Tea."

"Oh, god, don't mention the  _ tea, _ " Hastur grumbled.

"You're very proud of it," Ligur pushed on, patting Hastur's arm.

So  _ his _ name was Crowley. Quite fitting for the man with his overall appearance, especially the glasses and all. Aziraphale decided that he really liked the sound of it.

His mind caught up to the last name and he vividly remembered his father and Gabriel exchanging not so polite opinions about that family. Well, their father had strong opinions on most other families who differed only a bit from the good old traditions and everything.

"Oh, you're right, there weren't many exchanges between the Fells and Starbrights but I'm certain that you may have met my older brother? Gabriel. He's running the family business alongside our father and everything."

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you and make your acquaintance Mr. Starbright. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the night. I have to see to, er.... Other matters now, I'm afraid. Duke Ligur."

Aziraphale bowed again, waited for any sign of a goodbye from Ligur, while not expecting any response from Hastur whatsoever, and made his way back to where he'd last seen Crowley. Maybe there would be a chance to talk to him later.

It did dawn on Aziraphale that the handsome – wait –  _ mysterious  _ fellow may have an interest for the Connolly's daughter, but that shouldn't stand in the way of having a nice and hopefully interesting conversation tonight. And he could always say that he just had no chance against a tall, dark and handsome rival and drop all this courting nonsense.

Crowley polished off the dance with a short bow and a kiss to the top of Emily's hand. "You'll have to excuse me, I think my brother is calling me," he said, grinning with a rakish delight at one of their dance partners, simply to stir the pot amongst them. He was just as confused by the attention as anyone else, and Crowley stepped away, feigning he was tired from exerting himself but stretching up and walking quite normally once he was out of range. He needed a drink. He needed  _ several _ drinks, he decided. He needed....ah. 

And there was that fetching young man again. The exact opposite of tall, dark, and handsome. He was short, bright, and gorgeous (if one were to decide that handsome and gorgeous were on a sliding scale and had a mutual agreement in the middle that they were about beauty). Crowley went tall like a deer caught in the crossroads for a moment, before he continued a little more deliberately through the crowds. He'd done his dancing and his talking and his "how do you do's." Now was a time to do something  _ Crowley _ wanted to do.

Aziraphale had managed to fetch another glass of wine along the way. His first one must have gotten lost when his mother had shoved him into that tiring conversation with Mr. Connolly. He had just turned away from the dancers the moment they had stopped and was already regretting it because he had lost sight of Crowley.

He started to make his way in the direction of the dance floor again, hoping to catch a glimpse of that red hair, when he just saw him in front of him. And he was walking right up to Aziraphale.  _ Oh my. _

He missed that he started staring again.

True, Crowley slipped through the crowd easier than expected and caught up to the gentleman who had caught his eye. He grinned at the glass of wine in hand and, yes, he wanted one of those, too, but he just brought a somewhat distancing smile to his face and simply asked, "What're  _ you _ doing here?" 

If it came off as accusatory or jarring, it's because Crowley was a tit who tried too hard to be the suave and mysterious sort in hopes of keeping those suitors his mother was always gently pushing for off his damn tracks. He wasn't entirely sure how to turn it off.

"I... Uh.. I was just looking for... someone."

Oh great, getting caught staring baldly and not being able to get a straight reply out of his mouth; he really was leaving the best impression possible…. 

Aziraphale gave himself a mental shake and straightened a little, tugging at his waistcoat.

" And I'm attending the ball, like you Mister...?"

He didn't want to give away that he already knew who the other was.

"Mm, oh." He stuck out his hand to shake. "Crowley. Is fine." Didn't need to mention his family name and watch this little angel's face fall from hearing it. They had plenty of people who weren't fans of them, even if his parents were delightful and charming and so damnably  _ nice. _ "And you are....?" 

He almost said "Angel" at the end there too. There was something about this fellow's face and demeanor. Not that he meant to be belittling, but he reminded Crowley of those cherubs you see in very fine Italian paintings, hovering like little gossipy babies over the heads of Mother Marys and the likes.

A first name basis right away. That was quite a bold move. Aziraphale took the offered hand with a warm smile. 

“Aziraphale Fell. Nice to meet you, Crowley.” 

If he held the other’s hand a second too long for the appropriate gentleman's-handshake, he didn’t really notice or care. He was occupied with studying Crowley from up close now. 

He was a little taller than Aziraphale and seemed to be all edges and sharp angles compared to the round and softness of Aziraphale himself. Even the choice of his wardrobe, all dark from his glasses to the boots, was a stark contrast to the earthy tones and blues of Aziraphale’s. It did quite well in bringing out the fiery red of Crowley’s hair beautifully. He didn’t look like his grumpy brother at all (but Aziraphale didn’t share any big similarities with his siblings either). He just looked so utterly different to Aziraphale and it was delightful.

“You enjoyed your chance of dancing with the young lady of the house?”

Crowley huffed out a laugh, dragging his thumb idly over Aziraphale's knuckles a moment as he looked back at the dance. "Oh, as much as anyone, I suppose. She's...fine. She's fine." He let go of Aziraphale's hand a little late too and tucked both his hands behind his back. 

_ Shit. A Fell! Now he was royally fucked, wasn't he? Star-crossed lovers and all that nonsense? _

Not that they...not that they were lovers! A silly comparison. Crowley blinked and slightly shook his head before he fixed his features. 

"I mean. Well, Connolly was decent enough to invite us. It was a pleasure to dance with her," he amended to be polite. "I think I saw you floating about, too. Were you...and she? I mean, I know there are several suitors. If i'm stepping on toes.... Well, no. I try hard not to do it on purpose."

Aziraphale couldn’t have suppressed the color that rushed to his face even if he would have put a herculean effort into it. The small brush over his knuckles startled him and he felt a mix of relief and loss when Crowley withdrew his hand (with wonderful long fingers, he’d noticed). Aziraphale clutched his together on the wine glass. He blinked his irritation away as best as possible and jumped to the next interesting thing: Crowley’s first comment about the young lady in question.

“Oh...oh yes we were before, yes. She’s a...nice young lady, polite and that...”

He let go off a little snort on the comment about stepping on toes.

“Well, I fear I may have done that several times, but quite involuntarily. And yes, there is quite a good amount of interested parties regarding Miss Connolly’s attention. I fear that I can’t keep up anymore. What a shame...”

Aziraphale took a slow sip of his wine, both eyebrows raised and a look in his eyes that said that he wasn’t sorry about the loss of her attention at all.

"Where did you get that?" Crowley asked, knowing exactly where Aziraphale had picked up the wine. He saw the light flush across Aziraphale's cheeks and wondered if he might make it blossom further. "I think you should take me there."

"Very well!"

Aziraphale smiled at him and lead the way to the dining area. He took the first full glass presented and offered it to his companion, raising his own for a toast. 

"To an interesting and lovely night! " he said, cheerful, and clinked their glasses.

"Even though I don't really attend such social events that often, I know quite a lot of people here. But you, I think I've never seen you anywhere around. May I be so bold and ask how this is possible?"

Well, Aziraphale had heard of the Starbright's, just the things others said about them, but it was a strange occurrence that he'd never met any of them before. Crowley must've been around his own age, from what he could guess. And why did he wear those strange glasses?

"Ah, I'm afraid I've been on an extended stay out the country for. Uh, studies." He held his glass up as well before he drained half of it. "No, but we already have the heir. We could always go for the, uh, the soldier and the priest. What am I but a drain on the family fortune, yes? I think it's better if I'm away taking too many classes and enjoying foreign cuisine." 

He hummed into his glass, glancing over his sunglasses with surprisingly bright eyes, at such an angle that Aziraphale might actually see them.

"It seems I spent too much of my time asking questions anyways."

"Oh."

The sound escaped Aziraphale without his permission when he saw the bright flash of his companions eyes. Was that amber? Really, could everything about this man be so irritatingly interesting?

He gave himself a mental shake before he got back to the rude staring and cleared his throat. 

"So you're the youngest as well, I guess! We got quite a lot in common here, even though I only came as far as London, regarding university. Studying abroad must be so very exciting!"

Aziraphale took a sip of his drink again and tried to glance over as inconspicuous as possible to get another glimpse of those eyes.

"The, uh...foreign cuisine sounds most tempting, in my opinion..."

"You'd be surprised what the French can do with some flour and butter. Little cream." 

Crowley smiled a little tensely and stood taller, obscuring his eyes with sunglasses again. 

"Or kebabs," he muttered, like he was losing his train of thought, when really he was scanning the crowd for that infamous shock of unruly white hair, not from this delectable little snow-drift-fluffy companion, but from that miserable brother of his. Crowley himself was easier to spot in a crowd and he was finally enjoying himself. "Did you want to see their gardens?" It was dark out, but Crowley pressed on anyways. "Connolly has a remarkable garden."

Aziraphale beamed when Crowley mentioned the French cooking. Oh, it had been so long since he was able to enjoy an original french dish.

Crowley seemed to tense up a little while he kept on talking. Before Aziraphale could ask about the matter, he could hear the voice of mother drifting through the air. The garden sounded like the best place on earth all of a sudden.

"The garden. Right, yes I would love to see it. Now actually."

He was aware of the general direction, so he went there right away. With a short glance around he took one of the wine bottles that was standing unattended on a table with him as well.

The air was fresh and not too cold for the late spring weather was moving steadily towards the early summer. Aziraphale took a deep breath, just recognizing how stuffed the air inside had been with all the people. He spotted a small bench under some trees and gestured his companion to go there. He sat down and enjoyed the silence, in comparison to the chatter and music.

"Ah, it's lovely out here! That was a good idea…. I have to admit that I'm not too fond of balls and the like..."

Crowley seemed to throw himself on the thick stony banister that captured a little alcove looking over the garden. A quick hop would put them right on the grass, but this way was tamed and protected. The distant sound of music was muffled by the house and only occasional laughter truly made it to their hidden area. 

"Me too," Crowley said with an affected sigh, letting his head drop back and his mane of red hair flop out behind him. He should have had it braided up or shorn shorter with the little wave so in fashion near his temples. But he just couldn't be bothered. Same as he couldn't be bothered to remove the sunglasses, which were somewhat superfluous, considering there was no sun. Hardly any light whatsoever, actually. Some lamplight here and there, peppering the garden. 

"You stole some wine," he said, not a question, clearly seeing Aziraphale take it on their escape.

“I didn’t  _ steal _ it exactly, just relocated it.” 

Aziraphale grinned and uncorked the bottle.  He was distracted for a moment by the way the fiery hair was displayed now, recognizing how long it was. Oh, how could a human being be so irritatingly handsome?

“I’m glad we’re on the same page here. I hope it’s not too bold of me to assume that you were  _ asked _ to pay the young Miss Connolly a courtesy visit?”  He punctuated the word asked with a raised eyebrow, hoping to get his point across.

"Oh,  _ asked _ I was," Crowley answered in the same perk, same punctuated charm. "Back home, it's time to do the rounds and find myself  _ a nice wife. _ " He hissed, like the phrase was distasteful and deserved to be spit out. Then he turned around and rested on his forearms, looking at nothing with the sunglasses, his words drooping same as his shoulders did. "I don't even want a nice wife, if I'm honest. I don't want a nice anything." 

_ Nice _ , in his opinion, was  _ boring _ , and that was asking for an early grave.

Aziraphale was fascinated by the honest answer, considering that they were mere strangers. He had assumed that his boldness to ask about this topic had resulted from the wine he had consumed over the course of the evening and hope to have finally found someone that had to endure the same as him.  Aziraphale's face softened as he saw the change in Crowley's demeanor.

"I feel the same. I don't see any sense in all of this and would prefer to be let alone on that matter."  He sighed and let his gaze wander back to the house and the light that colored the grass in a warm yellow.  "So.... A fierce and unrespectable wife would be better?"

Crowley couldn't hold back the snort of laughter, the curl of humor to the corner of his mouth. "Loads better," he answered. "Fierce and unrespectable husband could do too." 

He bumped Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"Better company out here."

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

Aziraphale blushed again. Well, that was an interesting turn of events, wasn't it.

"Ah, so.... That would be an interesting thing, but I fear that the attendees of this party are all more on the side of 'nice and respectable.'"

_ Including me. _

Aziraphale tried not to linger too long in that thought and took a swig directly from the bottle before he went and offered it to Crowley.

"They are. They keep to their order. I don't know how we'll be able to fight against it." 

It was...perhaps a test. Lumping Aziraphale in with himself. He did look all soft and innocent and kind, but just swiping the bottle and joining him out here alone in the garden, independent from the ball? Crowley could have a bubble of hope, letting it warm him. 

He took the offered bottle and sipped it straight away, without wiping it off, a gentle mirror of a kiss. And it seemed to be a blessing that it was already dark outside. The indirect kiss was adding only more warmth to Aziraphale’s cheeks and neck so that he thought he might start radiating it.

"You sound like you want to start a revolution." He chuckled. 

"Well, we're out here now instead of circling around that poor girl like vultures, that's a start at least."

The wine helped to push Aziraphale’s usual boundaries more now and he leaned in Crowley's direction a little, looking at his his glasses.

"I'm sorry if I'm too bold yet again and changing the topic and all, but the glasses…. Are you even able to see anything out here?"

He was just curious and a little amused. This was the most honest and exciting conversation he had since a long time and there were so many things he would like to know about Crowley.

" _ Viva le revol _ ...sorry?" He tripped over his thoughts. "My glasses?" Crowley almost took them off, but he just held onto the thin wire frame, gliding his index over it. 

To be certain, there was no  _ reason _ he wore them, other than they made him feel distinguished and roguish and all that. And, well, he was already losing his vision around the edges. Things in the distance were blurry. It shouldn't matter what he could see this late at night if he had a companion to walk with, which he often did. 

"Do you not like them?" he asked, leaning down close enough his breath brushed Aziraphale's ear.

"Oh no, they're quite dashing, but it seems to be a little impractical, considering the time of day. And it makes me wonder what your actual eyes look like."

The words were out before he could think enough about their implications. Oh well, in for a penny...

"They do say that the eyes are a mirror to one's soul and all."

Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, taking a steadying breath. He lifted his hand to touching the other man's shoulder and, with a quick flick, removed his glasses.

His eyes were closed. As though, perhaps, possibly, potentially, he was embarrassed. Or ashamed. Or getting accustomed to the transition of dark sunglasses to dark...evening. 

But then, eyes closed, he was missing out on his latest evening companion. Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, focusing on his stormy blue eyes. Lord help him, he felt strangely vulnerable?

"Oh my, they're gorgeous."

It was quite an understatement, really. Aziraphale had never seen such an eye color and it was just all too fitting for the handsome redhead. They were like a mix of amber and gold and even in the low light out here they gave a glowing impression.

Aziraphale was staring unabashedly now, pure admiration on his face. However, he eventually came to his senses.

"Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me! But it's just that.... That's quite an unusual color. In a good way!"

He felt the need to reassure Crowley. The whole situation was somewhat fragile and intimate even.

Oh how lucky it was dark or else he'd be known as the blushing, giggling,  _ blushing _ fool. 

Not to say blushing didn't look fetching on Aziraphale.

Crowley laughed, tucking his chin down, trying to accept the compliment gracefully. 

"Well, thank you," he muttered, glancing back at Aziraphale with those golden eyes again. "I like yours too. They catch the light in so many shades."

It was Aziraphale’s turn to be blushing and giggling. They seemed to volley that roll back and forth quite naturally.

"Thank you as well. In comparison to yours, they're quite plain I'm afraid."

He just smiled up at him and felt a comfortable warmth inside. He'd thought that this evening would be a long and tortures one, full of forced chivalry and pointless conversations and now he was standing here, in a nice garden at night with a handsome stranger that seemed to be still interested in him. 

A small part of him was whispering, that it wouldn't take long till Crowley would get tired of Aziraphale when he just discovered how very uninteresting and, God forbid,  _ nice _ he was. His eyes dropped down, looking at the floor at this thought. That was so typical, ruining his own good mood just now.

"It's a shame that you're covering them up, you know."

"A shame." 

Crowley felt he needed to be a little bold with this lamb–don't think of him as a wolf or a lion. Other people have attempted to label him as such and, of course, the odd snake metaphor now and again.

Still. Aziraphale had suddenly wilted and Crowley traced a hand under his chin to tilt it back up.

"That anyone let you think you don't have captivating eyes, Mr. Fell."

Aziraphale blanched at the unexpected physical contact. He felt the sudden urge to wet his lips, painfully aware that they felt dry as the desert.

He managed a nervous smile instead. Good Lord, this dashing gentleman was actually interested in him. It wasn't like there'd never been any other interested parties. London had been quite an interesting place, but no one had ever actually acted around Aziraphale like this. With a gentler want. An actual wish to know him instead of just to... _ know _ him.

At least...he hoped.

This was embarrassing, really. How could he get so flustered like a blushing maiden in a romantic novel? He had to gain some ground again or else he would just make an utter fool out of himself.

"Do you - ?" he cleared his throat, trying to get that high and nervous pitch out of his voice. "Do you act like this around all your new acquaintances, Mr. Crowley?"

He hoped that he sounded playful enough.

"Mm. The interesting ones."

Oh, that made him sound like a tramp, didn't it? Perhaps he had a habit of being a tramp? Was it habit? 

Crowley traced Aziraphale's chin and dropped his fingers.

"Do you know...sorry." He took the bottle and a drink from it, cutting between them. There, that took some of the edge off. And burned away some of the wrinkle of shame. "Good. Now. Do you know, Mr. Fell." 

_ Mr. Fell. _ Habitual enemy of his family. What would his brother say. 

Sod it, he was this far and they'd gazed into each other's eyes and a swirl had twisted up his stomach and crawled like beetles up his throat and it made his heart patter faster and he might not have licked his lips, but Mr. Fell here twitched them in a way that had caught Crowley's eyes and, "sod it. Can I kiss you?" he finally blurted out.

Aziraphale really wanted to process the answer to his question but Crowley's blunt request knocked him out of any coherent thought.

The other had acted so suave till this moment but know he looked nervous as well. (Not that Aziraphale could really acknowledge that information, given his own predicament.)

" _ Kissing _ ?" Aziraphale was sure he must have looked like an owl, his eyes wide in surprise and shock. "I... We... We just met! That's! That’s...uh...."

_ Too fast _ . That's what it was. Too fast and very scandalous and uncalled for and Aziraphale should just refuse right away. Crowley was a Starbright to top this off and he shouldn't even consider it for a second!

On the other hand, he wasn't sure if their paths would cross again, considering that they've never even met before. What if Crowley was sent away after not being successful in getting Connolly's favor?

Oh bugger, he really wanted to taste those lips but that would come across as very desperate, wouldn’t it.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and straightened a little. He was sure Crowley was able to see his heart pounding in his throat, but he tried to give a calm impression anyways. Maybe he could refuse the tempting offer without calling everything off right away.

“I - I am very flattered, I assure you. I don’t know what your usual, er...companions would do but I’m not the kind of person that kisses someone they just barely met, I’m afraid.”

_ Kissed, no, but on a few occasions…. _

Well, college was a different time.

Crowley had hoped and leaned in expectantly, just about to land the mark, when Aziraphale pulled back and stopped it all together. He floundered to the point of nearly tipping over, but caught himself by grabbing the railing behind him again. 

Aziraphale came up with one hand and tugged on Crowley's tailcoat lapels, as if he would right them.

“But who knows what could happen on a second or third meeting.” He smiled a little cheekily. “It would be a shame if this would remain the only meeting, don’t you agree?”

Okay, that sounded more self-confident and not too much like a flustered fool. That was the right footing.

"Oh." 

The sound was soft and unexpected and a little sad, if Crowley were honest. He fixed his gaze down at Aziraphale's fingers on his lapel and swallowed. And suddenly pulled away, straightening out himself.

"Right," he said crisply. The rejection stung more than he could account for and he needed a moment. "No, of course. I mean. When I'm in town. Right. Uh. Well." He replaced the sunglasses. "Y'know, it's late, and I'm sure Hastur's caused a scene by now looking for me. I should. Well, I must. Y'know. I just, uh, I'm gonna go find him. So." He bowed a little to Aziraphale and sighed out the tight feeling in his chest. "Enjoy your wine there and the gardens and, uh...." 

And Crowley turned to leave.

Seeing how Crowley retreat and covering up his eyes again brought a surge of panic and ache.

Had he messed up? What if he wouldn't like to see Aziraphale again now? 

Well, asking for a kiss right after just sharing some wine in a garden hadn't been the smoothest move either, but this was the most interesting evening Aziraphale had in a long time and he didn't want to lose this right away.

"Crowley!" He reached out and took a gentle hold of his wrist. "I - I meant what I said. I really do hope to see you again...."

Before it could get too awkward he let go and just stood there, nervously fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat.

With the sunglasses and a chance to turn away, Crowley schooled his features. He smiled, fixed it in place, and turned his hand to trace Aziraphale's palm just before he pulled back. Now it really was a ploy, because he had a history as a tempter and a tramp, he may as well play into his wheelhouse. Not that he would get any further this evening. No time to lament it.

"I'm sure there will be other gatherings. Trust our parents to set us up with the same nice women again." He put his hands behind his back, where they were safe to clamp together tightly, out of sight. "I'll be seeing you, Mr. Fell." And he turned again with a little wiggly wave over his shoulder. " _ Ciao! _ "

Aziraphale watched the slender figure disappear into the house, still clutching at his waistcoat.

“Oh dear….” 

_ What have I gotten myself into? _


	2. In The Garden For a Stroll

Eventually, Aziraphale found his way back into the house himself and earned a heated scolding from his mother due to his earlier disappearance. He didn’t really know how he managed the rest of the evening; an automatic politeness took over and maneuvered him through till they finally sat in their carriage on their way home.

Finally, alone in the comfort of his room, he started to process what just had happened. It resulted in Aziraphale burying his face in his pillow and leaving a muffled groan. What got into him? ‘ _Maybe on the second or third meeting._ ’ It still sounded so very needy. 

Crowley made an impression like he was some kind of Don Juan (even though there had been some not so smooth moments) and this wasn’t really something Aziraphale was looking for. Well, it hadn’t been till tonight…

All in all it had been such a refreshing and interesting encounter. Under all this suave behavior was something nervous and other things Aziraphale couldn’t grasp at the moment. And he wanted to get to know those things that made his heart flutter. To see those eyes again.

It was, in a way, a dream.

Hastur had been predictably awful as soon as Crowley turned up and, with some unfavorable comments from his close companion Duke Ligur, he upturned a glass of wine on the floor and sashayed out with Hastur coming after him like hellfire. 

Their retreat had been noisy. Plenty of cursing, but Crowley couldn't find it in himself to keep up. He feigned overindulgence of the wine and was asleep before they made it back to the manor. 

Mother asked after them, sitting by the fireplace, turned away and working on some embroidery masterpiece again, like a mechanism in her was tuned to the task, an automaton akin to the Flute Player. His mother was The Embroider. Crowley just told her he was tired, kissed her cold cheek, and went to bed. 

Of course, the second he was laying down, his head started replaying the events, stuck on the garden. He screwed his fists against his eyelids and groaned. Moved too fast. That was it. He moved too fast and he'd blown it! Fool. If he could freeze time and just explain....explain what? He didn't know the man! He didn't! Explain that he was fetching?

"You idiot," Crowley grumbled to himself and flopped over, coiling himself a tail of comforter and sheets and curling into a tight ball. "You fiend. You bloody moron."

Sleep did not find him well that night.

-

It took the Fell's an actual week to arrange the next meeting at the Connolly's, this time under the excuse of business negotiations. Which meant that Aziraphale would spend most of the day on their estate, together with his oldest brother. What a delight! 

He wanted to jump in front of a carriage.

Most of the time visits like this included the attendance of some other people (mostly friends of the young lady and sorts, making sure that everything was light fun and modest enough) with long walks and long conversations.

Aziraphale sighed, closing his book when they stopped in front of the mansion. He wouldn’t have the same opportunities to escape this as he had a week ago.

Oh, last week. He still thought about the garden and what had almost happened. Crowley wouldn’t leave his mind, those amber eyes were looking at him whenever he closed his and reading lots of Shakespeare hadn't helped this matter at all.

Aziraphale was roughly shaken out of his thoughts of red hair by his brother, who seemed to address him for a second time already.

"Now, would you please pull yourself together Aziraphale! You look all gloomy since we left. Smile a little! You're here to charm the lady, you know? Not attending a funeral."

Gabriel had a stern look on his face and beckoned for Aziraphale to step out. He was taller than Aziraphale, dark hair that was relatively short for the momentary fashion and very dark and piercing eyes. They really didn't look anything alike.

Aziraphale stepped out and put on a neutral face, not in the mood to argue too much with his stubborn brother.

"You should be thankful, Aziraphale. Father picked a very respectable family and Emily is a nice and beautiful young lady. If you manage to win her over, we'll be able to expand immensely."

"Oh yes, she's very nice…." A smile crept in at the word, remembering how Crowley had spit it out. "I'm sorry about the mood. I swear I'll pull myself together. I just happen to not rest too well lately, that's all."

The Lady of the house welcomed them and the typical pleasantries were exchanged. Since it was a very lovely and warm day, everyone was outside in the gardens and Aziraphale felt his throat going a little dry at the mention of it. Now he could actually take everything in and he ignored a specific corner, not too far from him.

Mrs. Connolly ushered Aziraphale further outside in the direction of a small group. 

"I'm glad you joined your brother today Mr. Fell! While he and my husband discuss the more serious matters at hand, we'll be able to enjoy ourselves. We actually have some more company today. Maybe you could read something to us?"

"It would be my pleasure." 

He smiled and looked up to the gathering of the group before him.

-

"We're going."

"I don't want to!" 

"Well _that_ hardly matters," Hastur snapped back and shoved Crowley out of the carriage. How he got Crowley into it in the first place had been a trial.

The gathering had already started. Their own father had travelled ahead, expecting his sons to arrive promptly. He was certainly not expecting Crowley to put up such a fuss. Hellos were presented while Hastur looked around for his close friend Duke Ligur, who had no need to pay a visit, but it had been apparently previously discussed by a letter and so the Duke was there, already chatting up the senior Mr. Starbright and Mr. Fell and a few more gentlemen. 

"Go pay attention to Emily," Hastur whispered, shoving Crowley out towards the gathering that was gathering out in the gardens. 

_Ngk!_

Crowley slipped back into the crowd, offering false smiles and curt, half-swallowed replies as he sought out a corner to sulk in.

Before he could retreat for good, a finger tapped on Crowley's shoulder from behind.

"Well, if this isn't a pleasant surprise, Mr. Starbight."

Aziraphale's voice was bright and brimming with happiness. Emily had been chatting up Aziraphale when the new guests arrived and everyone's attention had shifted. Aziraphale could feel his heart jump a little.

"I actually didn't think that I would have the pleasure of meeting you again so soon!"

He practically beamed. This could save the whole day and maybe they could get some time to actually talk.

"Aziraphale?" 

He didn't mean to sound so open and excited at seeing the other gentleman. He cleared his throat and forced himself to appear calm and collected. 

"What a surprise. Enjoying the crowd?"

There it was. Now he sounded bored and guarded and aloof. Perfect.

"Oh yes. _Immensely_." Aziraphale emphasized the last word and grinned. "Miss Connolly just so suggested a little walk to show us around the estate. Would you like to join us?"

It wasn't really a question. He was nearly sure that visiting with Miss Connolly was the reason that Crowley was here for. Same as himself. Emily was surrounded by her giggling friends and cousins or something and maybe they could fall a little behind and talk in private. Even so, the crowd of women were already calling out for them.

"A little walk?" _With chaperones this time,_ Crowley noted and glanced at the group through his sunglasses. "Couldn't hurt. Stretch the legs. Keep up with the local gossip."

He had done his hair up in a braid that sloped down the nape of his neck, tied together with a neat black bow. Another item forced into its proper place. And he half-bowed at the ladies, promising they were following. 

"After you, Mr. Fell," said Crowley, straightening up and keeping his hands fixed on some part of his outfit as they began their stroll.

Aziraphale gave a short nod and started walking after the group of chattering girls. Emily was talking about the arrangement of the garden but Aziraphale only listened half heartedly, eager for another conversation with his new potential friend.

“I think I have to apologize,” Aziraphale started, quiet enough so the others wouldn’t hear it. “I actually knew who you were when we started talking. Well, not really but I, ahm, sought out your brother before you ran into me, actually.”

It had been bugging him for the past week, besides the other things he was constantly thinking about since that night. Things like sharing wine bottles and almost kisses. Things like amber eyes beneath sunglasses. Things like surprisingly unstylish and yet dashing red hair. In fact, Aziraphale had to pull himself together to not study the different hairstyle Crowley was sporting today. 

Before he could linger on that “problem” any longer, he was addressed by one of the cousins.

“I heard that, before you were sent to university, you were actually enjoying a military education, Mr. Fell. Is that true? I have to admit, I couldn’t imagine that.”

The cousin in question got a scolding hiss from Emily for the last part and Aziraphale sighed internally at the topic. _Ah yes._ And just when he met Crowley again. Now he had to go and explain why he hadn’t joined the military like his brother. 

“Oh yes, yes I started it. Quite right. I was involved in an accident, though, which ended my career quite swiftly. I don’t consider myself very suitable for the military, you see. My brother Michael is more fitting for that.” He raised a hand to the cousin, an offering. “He’s an officer, actually. I’m sure you’ve heard. You could ask him quite a lot about the military, if that pleased you. I feel most comfortable in the field of literature and scholarly pursuits myself.”

"Had a few cousins who went into the military. Not all it's cracked up to be," Crowley said dismissively towards the cousin of Emily who had decided to butt into their conversation uninvited. So what if Aziraphale fell out of succeeding with the army? Hastur was working to take over for their father and a large sum of the manufacturing with the Starbright businesses was for weapons and such. Not exactly _in_ the military, but at least profiting from it and he was an arse. 

"You read books?" Crowley continued and wrinkled his nose. "Not much of a book person myself." 

Which was a lie; Crowley had a considerable library at home, but when his vision started to go it was a pain to read and he gave it up out of frustration. He sucked his lips in and sighed. "Not that that's bad. For you. You seem like you would be...." 

Crowley let his words die off. Why was he about to apologize for something? He didn't say anything rude? And if he did, why did that matter? They were only acquaintances and while _Aziraphale_ had apologized, it was clear that they should work on being "friends" than anything. Go about it the "right" way. Which meant Crowley would fail and he'd be a bastard about it and he would have a leg up on that when this friendship fizzled and died and he could go back to being forgotten somewhere else! 

Crowley scowled at himself. Miserable.

Except even with the scowling, Crowley had still diffused the conversation. Honestly. Had Crowley just defended him? Aziraphale looked at him in surprise. That was actually a very nice gesture (the _good_ nice, mind you) and he smiled softly.

"I think Gabriel once used the term 'devour' in the context of me and literature." He gestured with his book that he was still carrying around.

So Crowley was not much of a book fan himself. Well, he did seem like a person who enjoyed more adventures and the likes, maybe riding or even hunting? No, Aziraphale couldn't imagine him hunting for sport. It didn’t...fit him. They did know each other for Aziraphale to properly guess what “fit” Crowley, but he made his passing judgements all the same.

"Maybe I can inspire you a little later. Mrs. Connolly asked me to read a bit out in the garden for everyone. Only if you’re interested, that is. What are you doing for fun Mr. Cr... Starbright?"

He leaned a little closer and added, "And I would be what, exactly?"

"Comfortable under a pile of books," Crowley answered with a little sigh. He laughed and glanced over at him, squinting to see the title. "I mean, I'll need to check if we have activities planned. Yeah. But, sure. Could be good to hear you read." 

He shrugged like he wasn't extremely invested in hearing Aziraphale read or imagined him laying his head on those soft pillowy thighs and letting Aziraphale play with his hair while he read from their library together in the summer.....

Crowley jerked up a shoulder to his cheek to hide his blush. Dreaming of summers together? _Their_ library? Christ, he's lost himself to Fell Fever.

Well, hearing his family name pulled him back. Ah, he was a Starbright. Devils of the trade negotiations. Bloodthirsty. Ruthless, wasn’t that it? The whole family? Who had mint tea on Sundays and did flower arrangements and we're painfully friendly to each other, except for Hastur, who projected their reputation better than anyone. Maybe Nathaniel Starbright, when he was in a mood, but Mother generally found a way to calm his disposition.

Before Aziraphale could say anything more, Emily had come over to them and addressed Crowley this time.

"Mr. Starbright, my father mentioned that you lived quite some time in Italy and France! We have recently added some new sculptures here, right down at the pond. Had them commissioned from an Italian artist that is. I assume that you're a man who admires the fine art. Mind giving us an opinion?"

She asked very sweetly and was all polite smiles, waiting for Crowley to offer his arm or something. 

Aziraphale was a little disappointed that their private chatter was interrupted so soon again, but both of them weren't here to enjoy each other's company but Emily's.

The plan for the party seemed to be to get to the pond, admire some art and rest there together. Another girl suggested that Aziraphale could read to them once they were done hearing Mr. Crowley’s opinions and so all of them eventually moved to reach said destination.

It was starting to get more overcast, but no one seemed to notice. They were all too invested in gossiping and trying to coax information out of Crowley and Aziraphale.

Crowley was a little shocked to have Emily's attention, but kept it hidden as he took her arm and walked ahead, smiling at her commentary, laughing and offering his support. _Statues down by the pond, goodness me._ He tried very hard not to make it sound as sarcastic as it felt in his soul.

Indeed, the overcast clouds seemed more welcome than anything. The day would get hot and he had on his heavier overcoat because the brocade along the bottom was pretty and it made him feel fiercely overdressed. Which was perfect. Although it did mean he didn't have as solid an excuse for his sunglasses, but he wasn't going to take them off for _Emily Connolly._ He simply held her arm a little firmer and navigated the paths with the group as they chattered uselessly about something or other. 

His eyes naturally fell to the pond. Not even the statues, really, but the fuzzy pale shapes playing on the water. Ducks. Crowley wrinkled his nose and missed whatever comment Emily had on a bust of a plain looking chap with roses done up around him like a bad cape. 

"Mm? Oh, I'm sure. You must be tired from the stroll and the benches here look dry yet. And that weeping willow you have is downright picturesque. Might we sit a bit and enjoy ourselves, ladies?" He grinned at all of them, giving them his attention, skipping Aziraphale in the back, but not forgetting him. "Enjoy someone reading to us, perhaps?"

"That's a lovely idea! Would you, Mr. Fell?"

Aziraphale jerked out of his thoughts at the mention of his name. Crowley was an enigma, really. At their first meeting he showed how utterly uninterested he was in all of this, even repeating it today, and Aziraphale surely hadn't forgotten his more blunt und clumsy attempt to kiss him, mind you. Now it was like a switch was turned and he was the perfect gentleman to the ladies, ignoring Aziraphale in that suave way you handled your rivals.

He was quite a good actor. So good, indeed that Aziraphale couldn't ignore the little pang inside his gut that came with it. Well, he himself was trying to keep up the facade of interest but it was harder for him to maintain and restrain from his interest to get to know Crowley better.

"Sure.” He mentally shook himself and tried again, with only the education of his manners keeping him afloat. “It would be my pleasure, in fact. I hope you don't mind that it's poetry, ladies. I have a good collection of sonnets here…."

He sat down by the tree, so the others could gather round. The air was getting stuffier with the overcast and so he removed his tailcoat to lay it neatly beside him.

Aziraphale started reading in a calm voice, savoring every word and losing himself a little in it. Since it was still quite warm he started to uncuff his sleeves along the way to roll them up a little. He didn't really notice the shift in weather, missing that the sky looked more and more like a thunderstorm was on its way.

Crowley sat back as the women gathered around Aziraphale to listen to him read. He leaned back against the stone banister that circled the benches and the sculptures, a hedge tickling his forearms, and continued to watch through his dark sunglasses. He was lucky for the cravat, hiding the creeping blush up his throat. Aziraphale did have a wonderful command of the word and let it flow easily out of him, lilting and gentle and comforting. He didn't realize it right away until there was a splash of water on his cheek and he had to loosen his tight fists to wipe the raindrop away. 

"Oh." 

The first mist of rainfall started almost immediately afterwards.


	3. Some Rain Never Hurt Anyone

The group was roused by the rain and Aziraphale just came back to the present when a drop landed on his book. The ladies got up as fast as possible, not wanting to get their dresses soaked and dirty. Aziraphale may have offered his coat, at least for Emily for the sake of manners, but she was already retreating somewhere, calling out for Crowley and him to move faster. It was muted partly by the roaring of the distant thunder.

"Oh Heavens...we should get going too!"

He stood up, grabbed his coat off a stone bench that was to be abandoned if he did not remember it, and walked over to Crowley. He used it to shield mostly Crowley from the sudden downpour. It was somewhat unexpected that Aziraphale, who was probably only a couple inches shorter at most, should offer his coat up to shield them. He wasn't blind to the fact that the coat was helping Crowley out more than Aziraphale, a convenient cover to the rain. There he had been, at the center of gorgeously dead-eyed statues, as though they were gracefully placed around him. There were the little cherubs again, pointing heart-shaped arrows, their round bellies over gauzy marble tunics and nothing as how they were properly described in the bible. 

Crowley may have distracted himself for a while with the comparison, imagining Aziraphale in the same outfit.

And then the bloody rain and the women all tittering and someone tugging on his arm when really he was so slow to rise, letting Emily and her cohorts take off first. He blinked when Aziraphale came up beside him, offering that protection. It was too kind.

Crowley hugged himself across the chest but leaned in closer and started with Aziraphale across the lawn. 

"You're going to get a stain, Angel," he teased, forgetting himself as they made their egress from the rain.

"I think I'll survive it." 

Aziraphale chuckled and tried to keep his step up with Crowley. Seriously, he was more leg than anything!

The new... _ nickname _ did not go unnoticed and it helped ignoring the fact that his left side started to get properly soaked. A flash of light illuminated the pair and a louder roar of thunder was rolling over them. Aziraphale actually winced.

"Uh, it's quite near, isn't it? Wasn't there something like a small pavilion up ahead?” And then smaller, to himself, “I hope.” He returned his attention to Crowley, struggling to keep step and keep dry and keep from bumping into him in all the same jumbled mess of a jog. “Maybe we should seek out some shelter and wait for the worst to pass."

Crowley glanced up at the angry sky overhead and finally loosened his arms to help tug Aziraphale along, rising up a hill that was capped with a little pavilion to look out on the cultivated property. He laughed as they passed under a curtain of water that soaked them both completely, shaking his arms out around him. 

Good thing they did. Another bolt of lightning struck the earth nearby and the air cracked with loud thunder almost immediately afterwards. 

"Nearly got our heals," Crowley joked as he wiped his hands down his braid and flicked water away again. He turned to assess Aziraphale while he continued adjusting his own hair a little, his waistcoat and lapels. He wished briefly he had something to smoke or something to drink to keep them warm.

Aziraphale mirrored Crowley with the shaking and ran a hand through his rain-matted hair, desperately trying to get some life back into his curls. His sleeves were sticking to his skin, rolled down again by the weight of the rain.

"Dear Lord, you're right! I guess we'll be stuck here for a moment."

He draped his coat over the railing; not much hope that it would dry anytime this decade.

"Do you think the others made their way back safely...?"

"S'long as they don't get stuck under the trees," he said with a shrug. "I'm sure they'll be tittering about their poor dresses for the rest of the day. It's best we're out here."

Crowley craned his neck and started to circle Aziraphale, looking him up and down. "Where's your book? Did you rescue it?"

The slightly concerned expression that had lingered on Aziraphale’s face was replaced with shocked realization.

"The book! Oh no, I completely forgot about the book! It'll be a soaked mess, I have to get back right away! I-" 

He turned to leave the pavilion but was stopped by another crash of lightning nearby. Crowley hooked his arm and tugged Aziraphale away from the archway. 

"Ah, it's a lost cause," he said, craning to look up from the lip of the awning. "Wouldn't chance it right now." 

Crowley continued to watch the rain, slowly loosening his hold on Aziraphale's arm. 

"I." He cleared his throat, refusing to look at him. "I might have a copy at home. Not using it anyways, so. I mean, I recognized it right away, I must have it if I recognize...well…. If you want...."

The desperate look shifted to a surprised one. Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, wishing once again for those blasted glasses to vanish. 

“I...thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

He smiled coyly, looking at this handsome and utterly soaked ‘rival’ of his who just offered him a replacement for a dear book, even though this was their second meeting. It felt genuine, nothing like the charade Crowley had put up before for Emily. 

With the tincture of petrichor and time, the only sound around them the ongoing patterns of the rain on the awning and the thunder that slowly moved further away, they eased themselves into something one might even consider comfortable silence. Posture, at least, which had withered from uptight standing to merely shivering to stay warm, and then laughing about it. 

Aziraphale enjoyed the quiet, but he did enjoy Crowley talking too, and had to find a reason to make him do as such.

“Do you suggest that you’ll bring it with you on our next meeting regarding the Connolly’s or should I...pick it up myself?”

Crowley opened his mouth to answer and then shut it soon after. He was meant to be cross with Mr. Fell. He'd rightfully rebuked Crowley's advances and they were rivals and all that. It made sense that he should be colder to the man. 

Except it seemed so damnably impossible.

"If you avoid Hastur on your visit, you could...well, you could come round to mine and pick it up." Crowley shrugged and looked out at the rain, quickly adding, "Or I could send it on so you don't have to worry about being without it. Maybe Emily will have picked a suitor by that point. We don’t know how these things go."

“I’m certain that she’ll take her time, considering the pros and cons. If we’re lucky she won’t be interested in any of us two. If she is, well, I don’t think that I would stand a chance, even if I tried.”

He huffed out a laugh and let the offer to actually visit Crowley’s home sink in. The thought of meeting Hastur again did make his stomach sink a little. 

“I guess, sending it would be most suitable in our situation.” 

It was the reasonable choice. They didn’t really know each other and their families wouldn’t approve this fraternizing at all. 

“But I should think I’d like to visit, actually. ...Actually, more than that, I do hope that we still get time to talk. You’re an interesting sort, Crowley. I should like to know your peculiarities further.”

He should not have gotten his hopes up on Aziraphale visiting, even the mere mention of it. And he’d just called him peculiar! Well, and interesting. It was a funny little compliment, if it was dressed up all wrong. For the most part, surely, Crowley felt nothing on the matter, but if he were pressed he might have to admit to a little pinprick under his ribcage where that blasted hope kept kicking him in the lungs was growing faster and faster. 

"Oh. I, uh...I think you are. Too. Aziraphale." He got the name right this time because he was paying attention, of course, but still liked the way it fit snugly in his mouth.

Aziraphale smiled brightly now, happy that he still seemed to be someone who was considered  _ interesting _ in Crowley’s sense of the word. He really wanted to know him better. 

Before there could be room for more flattery, their names were called out from somewhere. Some servants emerged from the direction of the house, carrying umbrellas with them. And was that Gabriel stomping along the way? Oh great....

They were ushered back into the house, bidding their thanks and farewells to the Connollys and to each other before they ventured to their respective homes and lives. Neither would admit, as they climbed into carriages, that the passing glance back was not for Emily, her father, or their stately home, but for the gentleman who had entertained them in the pavillion under the rain. 

-

Aziraphale was right, of course. The young Miss Connolly took her time with the suitors, which gave the two men more opportunities to meet. To Aziraphale’s (and surely Crowley’s) delight, they grew closer, something vague and exciting eventually settling into a real friendship. After Crowley’s copy of Shakespeare’s drowned sonnets, Azirpahle had started to send letters on occasion, their content getting more personal, which helped water the garden of their new friendship. 

Since the relationship between their respective families was still tense, they had to come up with alternative ways to spend some time together. Fortunately, Hastur had managed to scare the former gardener away, so the small house, far from the main manor, was unoccupied and offered a nice and private alternative to public parks and their like. 

Aziraphale was delighted by the actual development, but he still felt something like a magnetic pull toward that still irritatingly handsome and very kind person and with that pull came a guilt he could not quite reconcile. Knowing him better had just heightened that interest, which led Aziraphale to silly things like adding pressed flowers to their correspondents from time to time.

Their most recent meeting was today and Aziraphale was early, sitting in the shade of a hazel bush and reading one of his new books while waiting for Crowley to saunter along. They had agreed to meet a little later in the morning. That he was early at all just meant he could not remove himself entirely from Crowley’s orbit. He excused himself with the idea of at least finishing a chapter of the book he had brought with him. He absentmindedly played with a long black feather in his hand, currently used as his bookmark.

Any moment, Crowley would surely come from the main house, full of swagger with some awfully ostentatious outfit again cut to severe lines, perhaps his hair done up or done down or done some way as long as it was touched up to "perfection." Except…

Well, he actually wasn't in the house at all.

In fact, he was closer to Aziraphale than either might have realized.

It was Hastur of course who had driven away the gardener, yes, stated rightly and correctly, but Crowley had had his own opinions on the matter and may have been very glad to see the gardener leave. He had taken up the slack in maintaining a few of the more delicate arrangements of their horticulture, which would do well on the chamomile farms if he ever decided to visit them for their Starbright Tea. 

He was not checking up on chamomile for Starbright Tea. At that moment, he neglected the severe jacket and such, the tidy hair, everything. He was hiding in the old gardener’s home, no more than a table and a bed and rows upon rows of plants, dressed down to only a shirt with his sleeves hiked up to his elbows and a pair of sturdy britches. His hair was tied loosely at the top of his head and he was covered in dirt. The back door beneath a thin awning was open for ventilation and sunlight. Crowley  _ had _ been working quietly to transplant and trim and such, something to do with his hands until he remembered the time and went to change quickly before meeting Aziraphale.

Until, of course, for reasons that had no purpose, he started  _ shouting _ at a pathetic petunia in a crockery pot.

Aziraphale was startled by the shout but identified the voice causing it immediately. 

He put the feather back in the book and made his way around the small house, following the now quieter but nonetheless still furious babbling. He wanted to ask what in heaven’s name he was doing there, when Aziraphale had to stop in his tracks. He forgot to breathe for a moment. 

For the current standards regarding clothing, Crowley was severely underdressed to receive guests. And he was rummaging around in dirt and plants, sweaty even from his current activity. Aziraphale watched how a small drop was making its way down from Crowley’s temple, over his sharp cheekbones and disappearing into his shirt.

He tried very hard not to fan himself at the display but couldn’t help the blush blooming on his face. To give him a chance to discover Aziraphale naturally, he cleared his throat.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself there, my dear friend. And I thought I was early.”

Crowley hunched, his spine the arch of a startled cat, and hugged the disastrous potted plant up to his chest. It was only Aziraphale, but he still felt caught doing something improper and turned around slowly. 

"Aziraphale!" No use acting the whimpering shadow. He stood up tall, casually dusting a smudge of dirt he could see out of the corner of his eye there on his shirtsleeve. "You  _ are _ early. Guess the sun's out. That's an excuse." He leaned against the table and continued to brush down his front and at his sleeves, not to outline the form of his body but to get rid of the dirt. "How's the, uh. how's the book?"

He didn't even have to see it clearly to guess that Aziraphale was reading. He was  _ always _ reading.

"I'm surprised that your out and about already, working hard! Oh the book is delightful, it's brand new actually."

Aziraphale smiled at him and couldn't help giving him a once over look, now that he was properly standing. He looked positively scandalous.

"I don't know too many things about gardening but I never heard Mr. Richardson shout at the fauna before. Is that something you picked up abroad?"

It was just a light and fun little mockery, something they'd settled into so easily after knowing each other better.

"Mm, very Italian," Crowley teased back. 

“I should guess.”

"Yeah. Passionate about everything, those Italians. Lots of yelling already just from your ‘how do you dos’ and the like, so you really have to let the plants know you mean business above all the, uh, the rabble." 

He set the plant down on the wooden bench, where it was separated from another table full of right green things and purple things and blooming whatever that was that, upon closer inspection, matched many of the specimens that Aziraphale had pressed into his letters.

"You hungry?" Crowley clapped his hands together and finally reached for a coat to shrug himself into, to hide the sins of his pastimes. "Sausage? Cheese?" 

Crowley rarely ate the stuff, as dairy upset his stomach and meat upset some other part of him he didn't remark upon, but he knew Aziraphale had a healthy appetite and didn't let his friend shy away from it.

“Oh, that sounds just right!” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley at the prospect of a nice snack. When he walked closer, nearly standing right beside him, he made an excuse to enter Crowley’s personal space by admiring the lushness of the plants.“Seems like you’re really good at this. You never mentioned it before.    
“Oh! That reminds me, I own a very detailed and nicely illustrated book about botany, actually. You, uh...you could take a look at it, see if it’s to your liking. My father and Gabriel will be out of town next week, meeting with some suppliers and mother is off visiting her sister. I thought it would be nice to show you around. Only if you want to, that is.”

He wiggled a little at the thought of finally showing Crowley where he lived; the news of his short freedom at home was what had actually brought him out of the house so early, eager to propose the possibility to his friend. He absentmindedly petted one of the plants while waiting for a reaction.

"Over to yours?" 

Crowley undid the ribbon of his hair and let it cascade down, brushing it out with his half-cleaned fingers. He wondered if that was a good idea. Of course it was Aziraphale inviting him for a change. And for a botany book. He bet it would be marvelous to look at.

"Yeah, alright. Let me know when to come over." 

He grinned and patted Aziraphale's shoulder, trying to hide a face the made at seeing that he had dirtied Aziraphale’s cream-colored coat a little. Crowley bit his lips and hurried over to where he had set aside a little platter of snacks in a cupboard to carry out into the smaller private garden around the house. The unruly, wild thing sat up against the woods and they'd have some privacy while enjoying their sunlight.

“Splendid! I’ll send you a message then.”

Aziraphale brushed the dirt off his shoulder without any further comments and admired the crimson locks, sighing softly at the sudden thought of brushing his own fingers through them, maybe braiding it and...

No, no, no. Thoughts like these were too dangerous. Ever since Crowley’s first clumsy attempt at the Connolly’s garden to steal a kiss from him, he hadn’t been making any more attempts to get  _ that _ kind of affection. It wasn’t like Crowley was colder now, quite the opposite, and they really liked each other, that was obvious. It was just that they wouldn’t really have a fair chance. Both of them were still set up to marry someone, to contribute to their families success and fortune. And maybe, he dreadfully thought sometimes, Aziraphale wasn’t that interesting anymore to try and kiss anyways.

He shook himself out of the gloomy feeling that was creeping up and sat down at a table they had previously set up outside the old gardener’s house.

“So, besides your gardening, what were you up to this week?” 

He took a bite of cheese from Crowley’s expansive selection in the cupboard, accompanied by a small delighted moan. 

“Oh that’s scrumptious, haven’t tasted this one before.”

Crowley leaned on the table across from him, resting on his forearms and bit the tip of his tongue as he grinned at Aziraphale enjoying himself. 

"That's an herbal blend to it, too." Crowley was proud of himself for picking out something delicious. 

He knocked his knuckles on the table and brought them back up to rest his chin against, mashing his lips against his skin in thought. 

"I'm supposed to go pay a visit to Miss Katherine Luxbourgh. I'm hoping she'll just throw a turnip and give up already, but she's stubbornly sticking with our appointments. I'm afraid this one might really be the last." 

Crowley laughed against his knuckles and shook his head. He hated the thought and shriveled from it on purpose. "What about you, eh? What's that one's name you were seeing? Emily's cousin or other?"

Aziraphale choked on the next bite and looked up at Crowley with a wild expression, a little teary from coughing. “You’re sure? Oh no, have you already tried to point out that you’re a womanizer and so very scandalous?” He remembered Miss Luxbourgh then and scrunched up his nose . “Oh wait, I actually think that she would like that...”

“I think she does too.”

“Poor thing.” Aziraphle wiped his mouth, chewing up the last of his bite. He hummed and pointed a knuckle at Crowley, sort’ve smiling. “I think I bored Charlotte Wellington and her mother to near death. One down! But, well, Mother is stubborn, so. That does not mean that my head is off the noose. Do you... do you really think if Miss Luxbourgh chose you and everything that we, um. That we wouldn’t be able to keep on meeting?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley dropped his head to his chest and sighed. “I would hope not but...it would be harder, wouldn’t you think? Having wives to steal our attention?”

The thought of it weighed like lead in their stomach. Of course they wouldn’t, Crowley would get his own part of land and would be sent there to start a family and…. Oh, he didn’t want to think about that.

“Should I spread some rumors or ask Michael if he knows any willing military fellows?”

He sounded hopeful at the prospect.

"Military fellows?” Crowley arched an eyebrow.

“SOme of his acquaintances might just be right up Katherine’s alley. And the Luxbourghs are well off. Wouldn’t be hard convincing some of them.” 

“You think Michael would help?" Crowley asked, feeling a little tender spot in his chest. "What kind of rumors would you come up with, hmm? For me, what would you say?" 

He made himself smile for his friend, but it was cutting him up inside as much as that cheese might have if he ate some. He had to keep hiding his mouth to keep it from giving away how upset he really was at the thought of losing all these little meetings, this now dear friendship he had garnered with Aziraphale.

“I don’t know... they can’t be too damaging for you.” 

Aziraphale pushed the plate away, losing his appetite. There were dire matters to discuss now. He absentmindedly started to fiddle around with the black feather in his book, frowning deeply while thinking of something. 

“Ah! What if we say that you’re already married in some foreign country?”

"To some lost lady?" Crowley grinned again, quickly warming to this idea, and drummed his fingers on the table. 

“Yes! That’s the right path to follow!” Aziraphale reciprocated the grin, gesturing around with the feather, pointing it at Crowley.

"Alright. And to whom I'm sending money off to but who I am not spending time with?"

He watched Aziraphale play with the feather, wishing to take his hand and still his worried fidgeting. He avoided touching him for too long, considering the disaster after their first meeting and the prospect of damaging all this. Instead, he gripped the inside of his own elbow a little tighter and laughed. 

"And while we talk to Michael about finding someone to capture Miss Katherine’s interest, what would the name of my mysterious wife be?"

“Depends on where she would come from. France is too close... what about Spain? She could be called...I don’t know, Angela maybe? Angelica? Maria? What’s a proper name for a Spanish lady?”

"Angela. I can remember that." He hummed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Plotting an imaginary illegitimate wife was actually fun.

“We have to come up with a reason why she’s not legitimate,” Aziraphale continued. “We could go the route of you being a right scoundrel, or... the more romantic one where her parents didn’t approve of you and the two of you had to get married in secret, like Romeo and Juliet!”

Crowley settled back into leaning on his hand, chuckling when Aziraphale pointed with the feather and his romantic notions of Romeo and Juliet. 

"Yes, but no kids in all this. I know I'm a scoundrel, thank you, but you can't drag kids into it. No, I think we'll stay star-crossed lovers. That could do it."

Azriaphale looked pleased with the result, grinning from ear to ear. 

“So, Angela it is. The love you had to leave behind somewhere in Spain! I wouldn’t have gone as far as involving children, don’t worry. You may play the reckless type very well, but at least  _ I _ know that you’re nothing like this, dear.” 

So, they had a plan. Aziraphale’s grabbed something from the plate and started eating again, setting the feather down on the table.

“If the circumstances are calling for it, I could also manage to fake some letters. The novel I’m currently reading would be a good inspiration...”

"I encourage that you do. Some of these people can be so nosy. Having some evidence would do quite well," Crowley answered with another little half-swallowed laugh. He pushed himself up. "What about you? What shall we do to help keep your mother placated but out of the hands of some nice woman who might steal you away forever and burn all your books and throw out the wine, hmm?" 

Maybe he laid it on thick, but it was vital to selling the dread of not being able to see each other again.

“Ah, too bad that we can’t use the same scheme. I doubt that anyone would think that I was capable of something like this though. Most people already think that I’m too bookish and...well….” 

Aziraphale trailed off and inspected the table intensely for a moment. 

“Some ladies got the impression that my interests align more with the Ancient Greek’s, actually...”

Crowley could not hide the little inquisitive twitch in his brow. He did not understand the reference and Aziraphale pushed on without him.

“Well, come now. I came up with a story for you. What would you think fits me in that case? Remember what the stakes are.”

"Suppose you couldn't join the church? Make yourself a priest?" Crowley wrinkled his nose. "No, then you'd have to wear the frock and have mass and then we really wouldn't be able to hang out. Surely my feet would burn the moment I stepped into a church."

Oh his family had considered letting Aziraphale join the clergy. It wasn’t the worst idea but Aziraphale was enjoying too many earthly delights. He wouldn’t have been a very pious priest.

“Something else?” Aziraphale offered gently.

And Crowley laughed again. Of course he laughed again, but he what he wanted to do was take Aziraphale's hands and say, "to hell with what they think, maybe they have it right and we should go off together." But then....

Well, now. 

"What if we traveled? Take an extended visit away. Hell, Angel, we really  _ could _ go to Spain." He spilled the nickname out when he was excited and didn't let himself linger on it. "Think of the food. Think the music. Think of the  _ dancing. _ "

He frowned again at Crowley’s sudden suggestion.

“I don’t think that my family would like this, especially not at the moment. And how would we manage to go off together? It’s a nice thought, really, but...well. Maybe not the dancing part.” And he pulled a face. “Just a dream, honestly.”

But it really was, the two of them somewhere where no one knew them, free to do what they wanted to do. It sounded lovely. And impossible.

“And dear lord, consider that they’re Catholics over there. That would be even more church influence.” It was Crowley’s turn to pull a face at Aziraphale’s consideration of which church had their fingers in which country’s pie. “I mean it. But I suppose that’s not a worry, since we won’t be going. Let’s settle on the urgent matter at hand: getting you out of that marriage first.”

Crowley deflated again and crossed his arms on the table. "Right," he answered evenly. "Right, no. Mine's more...immediate, I suppose. I'll consider other options for, uh. For you." 

He turned his hand over to pick at the dirt. The conversation crunched to a halt with his help and he felt embarrassed that he had done so. So, he soldiered on. 

"When's your next appointment with your fair lady?"

Seeing that spark in the other going out again hurt. Aziraphale would have loved to say yes, to just go to wherever Crowley suggested, but without their families’ money they wouldn’t get far and who knew what would happen to them after? What if they ran away together and Crowley got bored of him or met someone he actually loved?

“In two days, she’ll come over to our manor actually. It’ll be a day full of showing her around and such...”

He trailed off again, his thoughts still on the impossible idea of the two of them running away. It went often like this. They had a pleasant conversation, Crowley said something bold and Aziraphale just paddled back and hurt him somehow. He loathed it. 

He looked out at Crowley to study his face, still a difficult task with the glasses, and saw some leaflets, clinging to a strand of the gorgeous fiery waves of Crowley’s hair. Aziraphale leaned over to him and stretched out his hand. It was a perfect excuse to get closer, satisfying the urge to touch just a little.

“You got something there...”

"Two days, that's not a lot...oh?" 

Aziraphale might not be able to see, but Crowley's eyes flickered quickly to follow the hand as it came up to his hair. He held perfectly still, letting Aziraphale come to him for a change, afraid that if he moved he'd break whatever spell had been cast to let him come closer.

It was far simpler than a spell. It was just a bit of greenery caught in his hair, put there himself when he had undone the ribbon that kept it up. Still, he felt it hard to breathe even as Aziraphale reached. The warmth of his hand traveling across the cool distance of space and glancing his cheek. Or perhaps he was blushing and the heat off his skin was travelling the other way around.

"You got it?" he asked carefully, still not moving.

Aziraphale had often mused how Crowley’s hair would feel like. Now he caught a strand, smooth as silk between his fingers while catching the remnant of Crowley’s gardening. It was like time had slowed down, so close to Crowley. Aziraphale was able to get a hint of his scent, something spicy mixed with fresh soil.

He even brushed his cheek lightly when he pulled back.

“There it is….” 

His voice was still quiet so as not to disturb whatever this was.

He'd kiss that hand, he really would. Except it was Aziraphale, which made it even worse how badly he wanted to do it, but  _ because _ it was Aziraphale, Crowley simply swallowed and attempted a wink. It didn't translate too far with the sunglasses. Either way, it was a reaction. 

"Thanks. Give yourself a wish." He clapped Aziraphale's arm and stood up, pushing away from the table. "Come on. Let's go walk to the pond. And don't forget to invite me over yet to see your book!" 

Crowley was headed for the door, for the blessed release of outside air, so big and bright it could pretend to wash away that horrible burning feeling sitting like a lump of hot coal in his stomach.

Aziraphale blinked several times to come back to the present, getting up as well when Crowley was at the door.

"Oh I won't forget something important like that."

He followed after him, the little token of their short intimate moment still between his fingers. Making a wish, huh? It would be wonderful if something simple like this could turn everything the way they wanted.

_ I wish there would be just you and me. _

And then he blew on it. And it fell from his fingertips, caught on the gentle breeze outside the gardener's house, carried off to who knows where.


	4. Inaugural Tour of the Fells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for Alcohol: they drink wine on their picnic.

Unfortunate and awkward hiccups aside, the time by the pond had been quite fun, skipping stones and telling stories to each other and laughing too hard, which caught the ear of a certain older brother, causing them to run off to avoid being caught. They ended up giggling like they were much younger. "Promise to still invite me over," Crowley had said, near breathless in the woods, and squeezed Aziraphale's hand before they parted.

There were indeed more letters arriving, some genuinely from Aziraphale and one or two from his "Angela." He kept them in the same small wooden chest he had kept all of Aziraphale's letters, tucked under his bed so no snooping parties would find it right away - Hastur had a habit of raiding his closet every so often when he was in dire needs and if his cousin were visiting, he may as well not have a lock at all for the amount of his waistcoats and slacks that end up in the guest bedroom.

And then there were invitations from Katherine, as excited as ever for them to see each other and without any mention of Crowley's mysterious wife back in Spain, the news of which was making its way around the usual parties. Was she being inherently thick? Was she naive? Did she know better and was going to call Crowley out? 

He was getting all twisted up about it when the day came for him to finally visit The Fell's home. Aziraphale’s parents were supposed to be gone, as far as he could remember, so he went right up to it and knocked on the door, holding one of Katherine's letters in hand so they could look over it and make light of it in hopes of turning it into something they would think funny instead of daunting.

It took some moments until something could be heard from inside, approaching the door very fast. Eventually, a slightly panting Aziraphale, flushed from the effort, appeared in the thrown-open entryway.

“Oh...Hello dear. Come right in and excuse my state. I, uh...well, I sent some of the staff away so there won’t be too much gossip...”

He had forgotten the time and had been engrossed in another “Angela” letter and just remembered then that he was supposed to open the door. Aziraphale closed the door behind his guest and led him further in. Crowley’s overly tense posture didn’t go unnoticed. Concern bubbled up inside and he grabbed his friends shoulder in an attempt to ground him. The anticipation of showing him around was forgotten for the moment.

“What’s the matter?”

While Crowley held up the letter like a shield of sorts, he looked around the foyer and down at his slightly disheveled friend. 

"You've been running about? Just for me?"

“Well, yes. I was lost in something and...you see, my room is far off from the entrance and….” 

He was teasing. Generally, it had to be said, Crowley was teasing, though sometimes he wasn’t and it was hard to tell. Except now, while he tilted his head, no doubt spotting Aziraphale's ruddy cheeks and the very tiny stain of ink there on his fingertip, it made something soft spool inside them both. 

Crowley coughed into his fist and stood straighter, slightly knocking Aziraphale's hand off, which was a bloody shame and not at all his intent. Still happened. 

"Right. Would you look at this? Am I crazy? She's talking about coming to dinner with the family and I can _not_ do that again, I nearly fell asleep in the soup."

“Oh?”

Aziraphale took the letter out of his hand and scanned it’s contents. “Oh dear. She’s really persistent. I guess she really likes you.”

“No,” Crowley wailed a little dramatically, just for Aziraphale’s entertainment. “Don’t speak such things into existence.”

And, it did. It made Aziraphale laugh, landing the mark.

Well, Aziraphale was certain that Katherine didn’t knew Crowley as well as he did, otherwise she would have wanted to marry him on the spot (in his humble opinion). However, Crowley’s good looks, his family and the slightly roguish demeanor he put up most of the time must have finally been what sealed the deal for her.

“So...we’ll figure something out. We have all day! If you want, of course. Do you want to discuss this matter right away or should I distract you first with a little tour? I’m up to whatever you prefer. You’re my guest!”

"Well, it's so rare a chance to get into the Fell house," Crowley said, already looking around now that the offending letter was out of his hand. "Perhaps a tour would be best?" 

Aziraphale really was a treat, beaming at him, wriggling just so at the shoulders. And when Crowley turned his smile down on his friend - the far more earnest, kinder smile that only Aziraphale and perhaps his mother got a chance to see - it was easy to see it reflected back at him. Until some wicked thought crossed Crowley’s mind and he could not help himself. 

"Ending with your bedroom, of course."

Aziraphale swatted his shoulder playfully, putting on a false-shocked expression. 

“ _Mr. Starbright!_ Good Lord.” The cheek! Aziraphale gave him a guarded smile, biting the inside of his his cheeks to fix it in place before he patted him and motioned into the home. “After you.”

He lead the way to the lounge, continuing with the ballroom and any other part that was used for socializing. He even pointed out the kitchen and the way to the servants quarters. The usual tour had been predictable, perhaps a little overboard by showing nearly _all_ the house, but a good portion of it Crowley had expected. No doubt he would have similar styles and rooms and such in his own home. And, as such, he ended up complimenting the portraits and the artwork, pointing to one in particular and telling Aziraphale they must have used the same artist, because they had something similar in one of their halls

The second floor was mostly occupied by the private quarters of the family, including guest rooms, the study and the library, which Aziraphale showed with much pride. He could not be remiss, however, to point out he harbored his private collection in his room.

The galleries were stocked with the occasional portraits and marble busts, some members of the Fell family, others just for the aesthetic appeal. The manor gave off the typical cool and elevated feel of a rich and well educated family, with just hints of individualism here and there.

When they finally came around to Aziraphale’s room, he hesitated for a moment.

“I, uhm...tried to tidy up a little,” he said and pushed the door open. 

The first thing that anyone who entered his private quarters ever noticed were the packed bookshelves, occupying nearly every wall in the room. There was a pile of books on the bedside table and even more on the desk that was placed near the huge window. There was something like a chaotic order to it, but Aziraphale might’ve been the only one who understood the meticulous categories and rules to the order. A plush and comfortable chair was placed near the desk pressed beside a window and looked like it was used quite often with the addition of a soft blanket thrown over it. All in all, it looked very lived in. A cozy place, this haven, in stark contrast to the rest of the house.

Aziraphale ushered his guest in while he stood by the door, wringing his hands nervously. This was the first time he ever let someone besides the servants and his family members see something so remarkably himself.

“Well. Make yourself comfortable somewhere.”

Good lord. That’s what Aziraphale liked to say. _Good lord_. 

Good lord, where did this man even sleep? The bed yes, but all those books. Everywhere! A dragon's hoard of them! Crowley's eyes widened behind his sunglasses and he grinned, turning about while he looked at the spines of all those novels, taking his time until he stopped in front of the main comfortable chair. He sank into it, looking around, imagining this was where Aziraphale spent so much of his time. The sun came in through the corner windows and offered a view as well as light to read by. And perhaps the chair was a little large, but it was certainly very comfortable. 

"This is perfect, isn't it?" he asked gently.

The sight of Crowley, sitting comfortably in his favorite reading chair was indeed perfect. He managed a nervous smile at the compliment, taking in his unusual soft tone.

“Yes, yes it is. I’m glad you like it. Oh, before I forget, here’s the botanical book!”

Aziraphale stood over his desk and handed Crowley a rather large compendium. There were papers spread where it had been laying, looking like the beginning of a letter.

“And, while we’re here…. The problem with your persistent lady. I was thinking, maybe we need a more _romantic_ approach here.”

"Romantic?" Crowley took the book from Aziraphale and slid his glasses up to his crown - his hair was done up in a small braid today, everything slicked back. The sunglasses nestled neatly at his hairline. "How romantic are we talking?"

Even while they plotted, the book took some of his attention away. It was nice and heavy, with a beautiful engraving over the top of it. Crowley ran his fingers over the embossing, squinting to read the title. He started to flip through it, again pausing and running his fingers over the detailed drawings inside, then holding the book close to read the small neat script.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes followed the movement of Crowley’s hand, pushing the glasses up and fondling the binding of the compendium. He admired the rare opportunity to see those unguarded amber eyes, illuminated by daylight, which was now streaming through the window. His eyes darted down to the slender fingers then, wishing he could trade places with the page Crowley was studying at the moment. 

Aziraphale swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very tight and dry. Eventually, he managed to tear his eyes away and took a seat at his desk.

“She does not seem to be too put out by you having a secret wife. Maybe you have to tell her that you’re so helplessly in love that you would never be able to make her happy. If she’s more in for the adventurous type, the besotted one might oppose her more? It’s just a wild guess at this point. I’m just trying to consider every possibility.”

"Make myself a lovesick fool," Crowley said thoughtfully, still skimming the pages. "Perhaps more slovenly?" 

He gasped suddenly and closed the book quickly. "I should cut my hair!"

Trust he would assume some vanity of his looks alone that caught Katherine's attention. Which...might just be accurate. It didn't matter. Now he was having fun with it again, batting his eyes, taking a knee next to Aziraphale.

"Oh, my dear sweet Angela does not care for my curls, and she missed me so terrible, I've had them all shorned off so I could send them to her in hopes of returning the favor of her passionate letters, which I clutch to my breast nightly and weep. I miss her warm hand upon my cheek, my love!" 

He feigned to faint, clutching Aziraphale's arm so he didn't spill to the floor.

Aziraphale winced at the sudden declaration of a haircut and held on to Crowley’s arm, so he could act out his dramatic outburst. 

“No!” The horror! If only Crowley would send _him_ a lock of his hair. “I mean, maybe not all of it? It is a good idea though.”

Crowley continued chewing the scenery, lamenting the distance so great and so treacherous from his sweet Angela. It made Aziraphale chuckle. Crowley would have been a good actor.

“She would keep them close, maybe under her pillow or parts of it in a necklace, dreaming of the day when she’ll be able to braid it for you,” Aziraphale said lightly. He was pulled in to the idea, just imagining what Angela would do and how she would yearn for missing husband. “She would send you a token of love as well, you know. She would want you to remember her by. What could that....wait!” 

Aziraphale looked at the hand that was firmly holding Crowley’s arm. More precisely, he was staring at his pinky finger. 

“What about a ring?”

Crowley grasped, having too much fun building up his Angela.

"One that I could wear on a chain round my neck? I could pull it out and play with it. Kiss it when I'm just _so distraught_ over my wife." He pouted again and looked down at Aziraphale's ring, casually taking his hand to play with the little golden band. "I suppose I should find one. It would be a wonderful reminder of what the goal is."

“The...the goal, yes. I would give you mine but it would only raise suspicions, family crest and all...”

Oh God, what was he suggesting? The picture of Crowley, tenderly playing with his ring, even _kissing_ it was nearly too much. He was sure he was blushing and Crowley’s position on his knee before him was not helping with the matter.

“I could write a letter regarding it. You know, much yearning and everything…. Tip top….”

"You should." Crowley continued playing with his ring, focused on Aziraphale's neatly maintained fingernails. "You must, in fact. You're very good at writing."

Crowley hummed and stood up, dusting his knee quickly before he glanced down. "Were you writing one now? Was it for me?" He gasped and leaned in closer. "Can you read it out loud to me?"

The request was simple enough, but Aziraphale’s reaction was less cut and dry.

He couldn’t help it. As soon as Crowley leaned in, Aziraphale inhaled deeply, taking in that now familiar scent, simply enchanted by this closeness, by the opportunity to view his eyes. His own must have been blown wide at this point.

“Uh. I mean yes. I mean I was, er, I actually was writing a draft. It’s still unpolished but if...if you insist.”

He was relieved to have a reason to peel his eyes away from his friend, grabbing his prototype of the love letter. Crowley settled behind him, leaning over to see the letter himself, but he was squinting so much that he just gave up on the matter and instead watched Aziraphale’s face while he read. Aziraphale had to clear his throat twice just to get it started.

_“My love, there is not a single day I do not wish that you would be the first thing_ _I see when I open my eyes in the morning. As long as I’m wandering in Morpheus’s realm, I can give in to the illusion that I am by your side, only to be devastated as soon as I have to come back to the cold waking world.”_

He didn’t look up yet, still too flustered from the moment before and the one it was now bleeding into. The ring was still warm where Crowley had touched it, sending a tingling feeling into Aziraphale’s hand.

_“It is getting harder and harder to keep my heart together, but my hope to see you again is still as sure as the birds of passage find their way back every spring...”_

Was his hand shaking? Aziraphale quickly flattened it on the desk and put on his best attempt at a friendly smile. He finally looked up from the paper, studying Crowley’s expression.

“A bit too much?”

Not that he was not entirely rapt with attention, but Crowley's hands had wandered during the reading and were smoothing out the back of Aziraphale's neckline, not quite daring to reach up and pet his soft curls. He hummed, considering the words over and over, smiling and offering a little happy snort at the way Aziraphale started with the frankly awful Spanish accent just to get into the mindset, thankfully dropping it after the fourth word.

It was quite easy, then, to envision a woman, not exactly from the port they had pretended to place her but a little closer, a little more familiar. A little shorter, rounder, with soft white hair and a ring that he liked to kiss. He hummed again and put his hands to rest on Aziraphale's shoulders.

"Yes. No, that's perfect. Full of that poetic stuff you're so good at. That might be a good one to recite to Katherine. I'll...." He looked down at his own hands a moment. "I'll see if I can fetch a ring from Mother's collection. That's perfect!" He patted Aziraphale's shoulders and slipped back to the chair, flopping into it more than anything. "You really are saving me. If this works, I'll be free of Katherine and maybe my parents will back off for a time. At least until the next season. You and my dear sweet Angela are going to be my own saints."

Aziraphale laughed bright when Crowley referred to him as a saint.

“And I thought I was an angel! Well, let’s hope that Saint Angela, patron of young men who don’t want to marry will grant us a miracle!”

They had a laugh, which was just the distraction he needed. Aziraphale shuddered from the simple imagination of how those fingers might feel on his skin and in his unruly hair. He craved the close contact when Crowley drew back and draped himself in the plush chair like a cat.

“Still, I’m glad you like it. If you want, I can do it properly now and you’ll be able to take it with you right away. Do you really want to cut your hair though? It would be a shame, really.” 

Aziraphale started working on the letter and let Crowley enjoy his new book. It granted Aziraphale a moment to compose himself again; his heart had fluttered like a sparrow the whole time. He really hoped that Crowley would never find out that some of the very passionate lines he wrote for Angela were his own desires. It would be too embarrassing.

After some time working and reading in a pleasant silence, only disturbed by the scratching sound of the quill on paper, Aziraphale stretched and groaned a little.

“I think it’s time for something to eat, hmm? He glanced over to see Crowley had accidentally dosed off in the chair. Not his fault, really. It was so damnably warm and cozy and quiet. Aziraphale would have done the same if they switched spots. The mention of food had roused him, thankfully, though Aziraphale could lament being denied a chance to gently touch Crowley’s shoulder or his cheek and wake him. 

“Mm, food?” Crowley perked up, yawning and stretched after Aziraphale.

“Yes. And with it, we can enjoy some wine too, what do you think?”

“Oh, wine, yes. Definitely.” He grinned nad pushed himself back up, setting the botanical book in his place on the chair. “Little bit of bread. Some vegetables. We’re almost into apple season, aren’t we?”

“I think so. We should go see if Mrs. Tracy is still around.”  
“Hmm? I thought you sent everyone away?”

“Yes, but I trust her and, generally, she likes to do some darning in the study if nobody is around to bother her. I’ll let her know right away.”

“If you think she won’t be mad.”

“She wouldn’t,” Aziraphale assured him. “Why would she be?”

“Shadwell would be, if I told him to go and then had him do chores anyways.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s smile faltered. “I hadn’t considered...d’you think she’d be upset? She is truly darling and wouldn’t say a word to anyone about your visit.” 

Crowley was back over to see the fresh letter on Aziraphale’s desk and gave him another amicable pat on the shoulder. He even arched an eyebrow at Aziraphale’s concern someone might know he was visiting. It wasn’t impossible to guess why. Fells and Starbrights and all that. It was still just amusing.

“Not a worry, Angel.” He leaned in closer and grinned. “Looks perfect. I can’t wait to start reciting it at parties.” He offered to help Aziraphale up to his feet then. “Come. Show me Mrs. Tracy. And, er, sorry. For sleeping. That chair really is too comfortable for its own good.”

“I fall asleep in that chair more often than I should and I’m happy that you feel comfortable enough to relax.”

They got down to the kitchen, where a woman with bright red hair was rummaging around in a cupboard. She didn’t even turn around when both men entered.

“Ah, you two finally found your way out of that stuffy room of yours. Let me guess, it’s the appetite that brought you down here.”

There was no bite or mockery in her statement. She had already prepared a plate with some food. Tracy turned around and inspected Crowley, her eyes sharp and her lips tugged up in a little smile.

“And you must be the young Mr. Starbright. What can I do for you deary?”

"Oh, well, hello." Crowley quickly crossed the room to take Mrs. Tracy's hand and kissed it. "My my, you neglected to say what a vision she was. Mrs. Tracy? Dare I call you Madam?” 

They both chuckled, Mrs. Tracy tittering that he was being a bit much. 

“Of course,” Crowley continued with a modest bow. “And indeed, madam, it was the appetite that got us. We're hoping to have something to eat. Mind if we take a loaf of bread? Any spread to go with it?" 

Aziraphale groaned and rolled his eyes at the display of Crowley’s charm-offensive, knowing how Tracy would react. The woman in question chuckled and patted one of Crowley’s sharp cheeks in return.

"My, as charming as you told me he is and even more handsome in person. Sure thing, love. Bread is over there and I'll fetch the fresh butter and jam."

She got the things from their larder while Aziraphale took the already prepared plate, put some extra apples on it when he saw some and snatched two glasses while Mrs. Tracy had her back turned.

"Would you be so kind and help us getting the wine I put aside, Tracy? We only got so many hands I'm afraid."

Aziraphale seemed to be very familiar with her, no trace of nerves or stuffiness there. 

Mrs. Tracy insisted that they should take their little lunch outside. The weather was too nice to sit inside all day, really! She repeated it twice as she led them with the bottle in hand out to a nice spot beneath a large tree. Aziraphale had guessed the spot and went up ahead, leaving Mrs. Tracy behind with their guest. Crowley could see a knowing smile painted on her face.

"I'm so glad that the two of you got so close. Aziraphale is talking about you quite often, you know."

"You know?” Crowley asked, holding a few of the items for their impromptu picnic. “I must admit, I feel the same. He's wonderful," Crowley said with a little smile. "Very talented reader. And writer. And person!"

Crowey already liked Tracy just in the fact that Aziraphale was so friendly and carefree by her. And she seemed spirited. He truly enjoyed that about her.

"Ah, yes he is, though it makes him retreat to his own little world most of the time, poor thing. More the soul of a hermit than a soldier, like his brother. He's a little more open since he knows you and from everything he has told me so far, you seem like a fine young lad." She eyed him from the side, that little grin slipping into something more devious, more sly. Her voice dropped a little before she continued."One could say that he really adores you."

She didn't say any more, reaching the spot beneath the tree. She handed over the wine bottles, told them to not get drunk too early, and went back inside. Aziraphale was already uncorking a bottle before she was back off the grass.

"I hope she wasn't too forward,” he started as soon as Crowley was next to him. “Though I think that's something you don't mind too much."

Crowley watched Mrs. Tracy retreat, still expecting to see her unnaturally bright hair poking around a corner where she might be spying on them. 

"No," he said slowly. "No, I don't mind at all." 

It took some effort to pull his gaze back and look fondly at Aziraphale amidst their little picnic and out in the waning sunlight. 

"But I know you do," he said, sitting cross-legged near him. "She's a character." He meant it as a compliment, as always.

Aziraphale chuckled softly at that, handing a glass over to Crowley.

"Yes she is. Not much of what you expect of a lady these days, but she doesn't give a deuce about it. I really do like her. Reminds me a little of you. Though I have to admit, it took a little getting used to it."

“Her? Or me?”

“Both,” he answered with a surprised laugh.

And after that, they sat. Aziraphale kept on telling stories about Tracy between bites, utterly relaxed out here in the shade of the tree, a slight breeze making it the perfect temperature to linger. 

And, despite Tracy's warning, Aziraphale gets quite generous with the wine.


	5. The First of Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That frottage tag finally has a purpose. Just needed 23k of build up to get there!
> 
> Content Warning for Alcohol: They have been drinking wine on their picnic and get a little drunk.
> 
> Content Warning for Smoking: "Shadwell smokes a pipe" tag used for this chapter.

Time went by out beneath the tree on the Fell’s estate, their little picnic uninterrupted. Aziraphale weaved his tales, and Crowley chuckled, lounging back - a talent he had for nearly every surface. He enjoyed the stories as much as they enjoyed the food and drink. They picked away at the plate of food and picked away harder at the bottles of wine, the first emptied long before they ran out of cheese and bread and jam. They were working on their second when Aziraphale suddenly remembered the time.

"Guh.” So eloquently put. He tried again, after mashing his lips together twice. “Maybe we should make’r way back inside. I feel...light-’eaded."

“Prob’ly good idea,” Crowley offered. “‘Fore it gets...too dark.”

Indeed, by his natural talent to lay about, he hadn’t noticed the soporific effect it had and when he sat up, he tipped forward and caught his hands on his knees. It was good. Crowley was giggly and felt good and it was good. Aziraphale, dear fellow that he was, was also good and Crowley laughed harder as he stood, subsequently stumbled, subsequently righted himself, and offered to help Aziraphale to his feet. 

"Come on. I'll carry the trays, Angel, you lead the way. I trust you!" And he started to gather to remnants of their meal.

Aziraphale swayed a little and waited for Crowley to get the plates. As he lead the way back, he grabbed for Crowley's shoulder for support, too giggly to care at the moment.

Tracy was not there when they dropped the plates in the kitchen, but she surely heard them on their way back to Aziraphale’s room; the latter was taking a new bottle of wine with him. As soon as they were inside and the door shut behind them, Aziraphale crossed his bedroom and let himself fall down on his bed, legs dangling from the side. He waited for Crowley to sprawl wherever he desired and gave off the impression that he was studying the ceiling.

"Crowley... May I ask you something more private?"

Crowley was somehow a little more steady on his feet, at least until he was certain they were safely away from prying ears and eyes, where he watched Aziraphale flop so perfectly. No doubt he had done it many times after a trying day. Crowley swallowed more laughter, but unable to hide the too-fond smile on his face as he himself went to occupy the comfortable chair. 

"What is it?" he asked motioning to the closed doors. "It's just us. Us and God," he teased before folding his hands on his chest. "Just us," he reiterated more seriously and closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and slow.

“Oh, God, yes. Indeed...” Aziraphale trailed off again, as he was want to do. It did not temper the frown that was now growing further, deeper, before he turned his head in Crowley’s direction.

“When did you...oh my, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too intrusive. But...when did you know that, uh, you don’t fancy the fair ladies too much?”

Oh bugger, the wine made him so talkative that he was unable to  _ not _ ask. They didn’t know each other too long but talking to Crowley was so easy and comfortable that it sometimes felt like it had already been a lifetime. They never really talked about  _ this _ particular topic before, though it felt like the proverbial elephant in the room since their first encounter.

Aziraphale wanted to turn his head again, afraid of how Crowley would react, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away. Especially since his head was comfortably heavy on the blanket.

From Crowley’s mind, it was just easier and safer to jest, of course. But Aziraphale had made himself a dear friend and the question itself was so earnestly simple. Crowley merely blinked, big and wide-eyed and innocent. 

"I do fancy the fair ladies," he said first, and wiped his mouth to get some of the taste of wine off his lips. "I mean, I fancy...both. If that's what you're asking. I fancy...I  _ like _ women. But I've always  _ liked _ , uh, men. Perhaps a little more. Truth be told, Angel...well. Don't hate me, alright? But I've had a taste of each and I can see merits for both." 

He pressed against his lips a little harder, trying to fight down a natural flush of his cheeks that was exponentially exasperated by the drinking.

"Mind you, it was all above the table, as it were," he added quickly. He understood how it must sound after the fact and didn't want his friend to think he was completely debauched. Other people held that opinion and Crowley helped them form it, but he didn't want Aziraphale to think less of him. That would be far worse. "Uh, above the...clothing. You know. I mean, you know you know, because.... I do like kissing. Don't you?"

They had had so much wine! Why were words suddenly both too easy to bubble forth and too hard to form coherently?

Aziraphale’s attention stayed firm, or at least as firm as he could muster with a wine-dulled head. The fact that Crowley liked either, men or women, wasn't even surprising. It was very Crowley if anything.

When Crowley started to defend his honor, Aziraphale tried to suppress a grin by pressing his lips tightly together, but the pleasantly giddy feeling he had and the mention of their first meeting were too much. He snorted.

"Oh yes, I remember it vividly. Don't think that I would think less of you if things had been happening more under the table, dear boy. Or on the table. Or beds. Hmmm."

He rolled his head back, watching the ceiling again and still giggling.

"Well, if you like both, then you may even find a suitable wife. Maybe there is an Angela somewhere out there, just waiting for you to send her locks of your hair! As for me, well..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "My prospects on that matter are not that bright. I tried, but I happen to be only drawn to the gentleman. I don't think that father had that in mind when he sent me to the military, to drive out that softness of mine. Gain some edges, maybe."

"Edges wouldn't flatter you at all. You're better like this," Crowley answered.

He opened one eye and glanced over at Crowley. Aziraphale’s face was flushed as well, from the wine, the pleasant company, and the intimacy of the conversation. He couldn't remember when he had been able to talk so freely about this. 

"All I ever really learned there was how to shed a uniform very fast in compromising and cramped conditions."

Aziraphale's giggling was infectious and Crowley had to pin his lips together to stop himself from laughing too loudly. 

Except that final comment startled a real laugh out of him and he leaned forward. "No. Really? How fast are we talking?"

An impish grin spread as Aziraphale rolled onto his stomach to face Crowley fully. 

"I think the fastest I managed must have been around two minutes. To be fair, I didn't get rid of it completely, just the...er... important parts. Things happened more on tables back then, actually. Then below them."

He was curious what Crowley's reaction would be, figuring out that Aziraphale might have been the debauched one all along. The complement of his undivided attention added some more color to his cheeks.

"The...the important...parts?" Crowley's head swam a little and he gripped the armchair to keep himself from spinning to the floor. "What're the...?" 

Oh god, he didn't know! He shook his head and laughed, leaning back.

"The...medals?" he continued awkwardly, twisting his mouth up. You wouldn't want to scuff them. On...tables. Crowley felt faint again, watching the metaphorical rug getting pulled out from under him.

"The medals..." Aziraphale echoed, while his face froze. A look of utter confusion crept into his features. "Dear, I was talking about my breeches..."

It just began to dawn on him that Crowley might have been far more innocent and proper than himself. And utterly oblivious. Aziraphale felt shame blooming in his chest, like weeds infecting a garden after a good rainstorm.

"Well, I…. Oh, shoot."

"Your breeches!" 

Crowley smiled and slapped his forehead, like the thought was threatening to escape him. Then his fingers traveled down his face and back to covering his mouth, staring blankly through his sunglasses. He quickly shoved the glasses up and looked over at Aziraphale. 

"Wait, your breeches." 

And then his eyes widened even more and he crashed to his knees as he crawled over to lean against the bedding, resting his chin near Aziraphale. 

" _ Other _ persons...man's... other's breeches?" he whispered enthusiastically and drew in a deep breath. He held onto Aziraphale's shoulder, afraid he would suddenly disperse into smoke and he had dreamed all of this up. "What was it like?"

The sudden closeness was like fertilizer to the now very unpleasant burning feeling inside and Aziraphale felt very self-conscious all of a sudden. Well, Crowley wasn't put off by his very haughty confession and Aziraphale had really just dug his own grave now.

He swallowed audibly, feeling like a mouse hypnotized by a snake, with those wonderful eyes pinning him right there.

"It was... fast. And not very romantic. We could have been caught very easily."

He had done it nonetheless. Several times, in fact. Never when the chances were high that Michael could have walked in on him though. Having his older brother’s mercurial stare could shrivel Aziraphale to a pea just at the memory of it and he groaned against his hand.

"But I must say it was also good. Messy and not very comfortable, but good. I’d, uh, I mean I’d do it again. You know."

"Did you love them? Him? Them?" Crowley asked, still enamored by the idea, of this  _ thing _ that Aziraphale had experienced and he hadn't and wanted to know so much about. He licked his lips and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I don't know if I want you to tell me if you loved them, it would break my heart."

But he perked backup and found Aziraphale's hand, holding that instead of his arm.

"No, you'll have to tell me, it'll drive me mad."

Truly, he was just too excited and could chalk it up to friendly close conversation and wine for his probing questions. He burned to know and wanted none other than Aziraphale to explain it to him, in that moment, with the world so small and quiet and theirs.

"I-" 

He couldn't even start! Aziraphale was flustered by the statement about Crowley's heart. The fast pace of Crowley’s thoughts gave him no time to recover either and he felt his heart race and his fingers automatically squeezing the delicate hand holding his.

It took him some seconds yet to compose himself.

"No. It wasn't love,” he answered softly. One might even recognize it to be sweetly as well. “It was curiosity, chance and attraction. I always wished to find love in this but... I was younger then. Quite naive."

His features softened. He had always dreamed of a romance like the books he had read, deep and meaningful and all his own to cherish and adore. But there'd never been someone to touch him that way, to steer his interests and desires enough. 

Not until now.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, his eyes obviously dragging down to his chest and quickly snapping up, like he had only just realized they were wandering. Aziraphale squeezed his fingers again it made a bright line up to his chest, burning his skin. Surely his heartbeat was racing against Aziraphale's fingers and he contemplated what to say. If he was too fast, he'd spook Aziraphale and if he said nothing he would go up in a blaze of self immolation and then Aziraphale would know just a little bit of the fire inside him, a moment, before it was snuffed out.

Would that be fair?

Was anything fair, really, in the world?

Crowley closed his eyes to keep his thoughts and gaze from wandering and found it easier to smile like he should, the happy friend who nuzzled against the hand that was holding his. 

"Well, now you're less...younger. And less naive." Crowley's smile fell as he settled easier on the floor, only his cheek on the bedding and the rest of him hidden from sight. "And maybe you can ask for things. If you want them. You're free to ask, I mean."

A deep fondness took hold of Aziraphale, seeing Crowley so trusting and soft, despite all his angles and edges. Oh how he would love to ask, to hold him close, to card his fingers through those fiery tresses and to taste those wine stained lips.

His index finger, which he had managed to press against Crowley’s cheek, started to move and caress the warmth underneath it tenderly. His breathing grew slow and deep while he felt so much longing that he was sure he was about to burst from it.

“I fear that it would not be reciprocated. And even if it would, what if I wouldn't be able to hold it close? To know to be able to have something you dearly desire only for it to be taken away again sooner or later is….” His voice had withered now, small and cautious before he could find the end of that sentence. He took a deep breath and added, “Dreadful."

Maybe it did feel dreadful, not having it….

"Reciprocated?"

Crowley's eyes popped open and he held Aziraphale's hand firmly. 

"It's reciprocated," he answered firmly, biting the inside of his lips when he felt them begin to twitch. "Whatever thought you have on it, you need to know. It's reciprocated. And he might be an irreparable, unforgivable bastard, but he reciprocates."

Crowley's eyes felt moist, close to spilling, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Damn manners and society and expectations of the family. He kissed Aziraphale's hand, because going further without his permission would break him. If he pushed him off now, hell, they could drink and sink to different sides of the room and fall asleep and wake up with awful hangovers and feign memory loss. Or, damn it,  _ pray _ for memory loss. Will it firmly into existence just to continue breathing when Aziraphale invariably rebuked him and told him he was being awful or something and he found he wasn't breathing and in a panic sucked in a soft sob.

The brush of Crowley’s lips against his skin drew a shaky gasp from Aziraphale as well. His own eyes welled up in a mix of empathy, fear and awful, painful, wonderful love. 

Yes. Love. 

How could he not feel that way for this man before him, so utterly different and familiar at the same time. He should say no. Should say that they had one swig too many, should probably suggest that Crowley should sleep over in a guest bedroom.

But the wine had unfortunately brought a boldness with it, a little voice that was telling Aziraphale that this could be his last chance to know what it would be like. Their plan on taking Katherine off Crowley's neck could not work and he would be married and they would never see each other again and….

He didn't know when he had come closer to the slender figure, draped on the side of his bed. He just noticed it when he cupped that cheek with his other hand, letting his shaking thumb caress the tender skin underneath.

"There is nothing to be forgiven... Not yet"

He leaned in, his fever-hot forehead against Crowley's, taking in his scent mixed with the wine they shared. He angled his head a little more and barley brushed his lips against Crowley's.

It was not their best effort. Not their best...but it was a kiss. It was a kiss!

Crowley gasped, for a start, which is rarely what you're supposed to do when someone kisses you. And he gripped Aziraphale's hand tightly, squeezing hard in haste. It took too long for him to move, but when he did, he pressed up to meet him.

He pressed up more, his legs a little numb and cold from the floor, but he got himself up, cupping Aziraphale's cheek, and let out an embarrassing whimper of relief as he got onto the mattress, his body bent to accommodate Aziraphale's angle than ever his own because he was not ready to break free. Not even if he were to drown.

Aziraphale answered with an unintelligible noise himself when Crowley came up on the bed, closer, not disturbing their connection in any way.

The hand in Crowley's cheek slid further up into his hair, right to the nape of his neck, pressing there ever so slightly.

Aziraphale scooted a little upwards to make more room for Crowley, but eager to not stop kissing. His lips started to move, cautious at first. Seeking. The answer came when Crowley cleaved himself to Aziraphale, a long stripe of contact up and down their chests. Crowley titled his head and matched Aziraphale's lips again. 

_ Ohhhh, _ he tasted like jam and wine. He was so warm. Hard edges, yes. And the other could only compliment that soft form. Together. 

Crowley curled his arms in for Aziraphale to keep his hand there at the nape of his neck. He found himself fisting the front of Aziraphale's jacket and pressed in harder, a tentative breach of his tongue to taste more. Aziraphale’s lips parted without much resistance, his whole body shuddering at the feeling of that forgein heat in his mouth, the flavor anew of wine and bread and apples. Aziraphale let him explore a little before his own tongue tried to do the same.

He lowered himself down on the pillows, taking Crowley slowly with him by pressing a little firmer against his nape. 

His whole body felt like it would burst any minute, so full of emotions and undisciplined want. He wished that time would stop now, that they could be frozen in this moment forever. 

He wasn't even really aware of the fact that both of them were still fully clothed, from cravat to boot. Everything that mattered at the moment was to get Crowley close, closer, until there would be no telling of where one started and the other ended

It was apparent that Crowley felt the same. Clothing was the furthest from his mind, other than if he thought about it, he was aware that everything was a little too warm. It was better to be laying down. He felt a flurry knock through his head, stronger than drinking as he drew Aziraphale into his mouth. 

Crowley trapped his legs around Aziraphale's, pulling back enough with a little sigh and hum. 

"One moment." 

He sat up and kept a hand on Aziraphale's chest to show he wasn't really going anywhere. Aziraphale answered with a small questioning hum at the loss of contact, opening his eyes to check where Crowley might retreat to in order to stave off any panic that he was having second doubts. Crowley merely stretched to toss his glasses over on the desk, then slid the tie off the end of his braid, shaking it loose with a quick brush if his fingers. He sighed at the release of his hair, Aziraphale’s eyes widening at the untamed sight of it.

"Oh, better. Come here." He grinned and bent down to recapture Aziraphale's mouth again.

"Oh, Crowley..."

There wasn't time for anything else to say when those sinful lips came back to his. The hand that had been resting at Crowley's nape slid further into the hair now, grabbing a handful just for the feeling of it.

The other hand that had been used for support till now started on Crowley's waist and slid over to his back, wandering up and downwards from there. On the last pass down he settled it on Crowley's narrow hip, grabbing it more firmly.

It was getting incredibly hot in there. Both must agree, the clothes were cloying and the air stifling. It was impeding movements, that’s what it was. 

This time, Aziraphale broke the kiss, leaning against Crowley's neck, panting.

"The coats. We should get rid of the coats"

"Should we?" 

Crowley struggled to keep breathing evenly and swallowed hard as he carded Aziraphale's persistently and beautifully curly hair.

“Please?” 

"Angel, you ask like that…."

He leaned back and looked down, then started to shed his coat to throw away from the bed.

Aziraphale struggled to get out of his own, given the position he was in. He somehow managed to get his arms free while lying on the corner of it, which made it a real struggle for a moment, slowing their momentum. He huffed, annoyed at the distraction and took a hold of Crowley’s hips with both of his hands after the offending piece of cloth was gone.

Even if he was just struggling, Crowley couldn't help but think him a wonderful, alluring man. That he knew more than Crowley was a bit intimidating, but that didn't dampen any feelings he had curling and trampling across his chest.

"Finally,” Aziraphale announced with a huff. “Where were we? Ah... I think you were kissing me senseless"

Those feelings of Crowleys. So bright. So skittery. Now flittering brightly under the skin where Aziraphale gripped his hips. 

"I believe I was trying," Crowley answered happily, cupping his face like he was holding delicate China and came in to return to what he had been doing previously.

Oh it was so wonderful, utter bliss. Every brush of lips, every delicate exploration of the tongue, the weight of Crowley’s body above him, the grip in that silky hair. Heartbeats hammering under the thin film of skin in such tender places where they dared to grip, to hold. Never more than a grasp or an idle brush, not yet, but introductions to what could be.

Aziraphale didn't know how long they’d been going at it; every last bit of the concept of time was thrown out the window moments or hours or centuries ago, but he could occupy his life with kissing Crowley. His body seemed to have other plans though and it was getting harder and harder to ignore that searing knot deep down in his belly.

He tried to shift his hips a little, right where Crowley was straddling him to get  _ it _ out of the way. The slight friction was starting to coax a bodily reaction and he didn't want to come across as needy as he was. It was harder than anticipated, especially when Crowley moaned just when Aziraphale pressed his thumb a little harder into his hip with intent to move him. Crowley jolted forward, just an inch was all, and the friction Aziraphale got brought out whimper of his own.

Now, look. Yes, the man was a virgin, but Crowley wasn't deaf. Nor blind to what Aziraphale might be doing beneath him. The slow, languid attention to his lips only got a reprieve when Crowley shifted to kiss his cheeks or his eyelids or pay attention to his soft jawline and the tender flesh of his earlobe. 

In fact he was only just returning to kiss-swollen lips when he felt the breath Aziraphale’s moan answer the startled cry he let slip just then, when he pinched his hips. It had been a gentle rumble that crawled up Aziraphale's throat and met him just as their lips rejoined. 

Aziraphale didn't sound hurt. Or sick. Maybe a little sick, but the sounds were so closely matched. It was only because of Crowley's angle that he felt it and immediately blushed. 

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered warm and close. His hands were fixed next to Aziraphale's shoulders so he could roll his hips, just a little, rocking them forward to test something. He felt devious and excited and hopeful about such a gambit.

Of course it didn't go unnoticed.

When Crowley asked about his well-being, the whisper made him shiver, tickling pleasantly in his ears. 

Oh, he was a vision above him, with this flaming hair framing his face, a flush to his cheeks that certainly went further down over his chest, matching Aziraphale’s. The gorgeous eyes fixed only on Aziraphale with so much feeling in them, it was almost too much.

"Heaven's, no! No it's quite wonder... _ ah _ ...ful."

His voice pitched up when Crowley started to rock his hips. Dear Lord he could feel him a little now and he wanted more. So much more.

He couldn't help it,. Aziraphale rarely gave up on simple temptations and joys. He was an insatiable little thing and even though everything about this whole situation was so wrong and they should have stopped ages ago, Aziraphale rolled his hips up to meet Crowley's, giving in even more.

"Oh, darling...more…."

The word...words. But three of them, in fact, and it set Crowley’s mind on fire.

Aziraphale’s hands squeezed the narrow hips, encouraging them to keep on moving. Crowley happily obliged, circling them against Aziraphale before he made a purposeful little thrust, a wave of his body. 

It felt bloody wonderful, actually, the rising heat between them. Couldn't go unnoticed now, certainly. Crowley moved himself to press against the length, to add friction to his actions, dragging upwards and grinding back down. 

And it was his turn to tuck in against Aziraphale, his mouth wandering the limited range of his neck.

"I feel you, Angel. I'm here. Simply ask and I'll do what I can to deliver."

Aziraphale smiled and placed a kiss to the side of Crowley’s head where he was able to. He was so eager to please, even tried to reassure him and it added a pleasant wave of affection to the haze of lust. Aziraphale let his breath ghost over Crowley's ear while trying to gather enough coherence to form words.

"I would like to...feel you properly"

He let one of his hands slowly wander from Crowley's hips to his groin, cupping what he could reach. What he could feel. What he  _ wanted _ .

Crowley's mouth popped open and he shivered over Aziraphale, swallowing a short curse.

"Like that?" he asked, still not even considering  _ more _ clothing could come off. Instead, he just rolled his hips up against Aziraphale's hand. "And. And I could feel you. If you like?"

How could someone who played the suave playboy be so innocent and cute, even while grinding down on another man?

Aziraphale considered if he should go with Crowley’s pace, just keeping everything above the clothing -  _ above the table _ , that’s what he had said - or, if he should see how fast he could get into Crowley’s pants. Literally.

He may scare Crowley away. Crowley was eager but seemed to have no grander scheme of what could happen next. But Aziraphale would be damned if they stopped. They were already here, so close it was almost like the dreams Aziraphale had allowed himself to have sometimes and he was too far gone at this point.

The hand on Crowley’s groin gave a brief squeeze and started to undo the buttons of his front, nimble fingers plucking at the bone buttons with deft precision.

“I thought about more skin,” Aziraphale answered at last.

The clasp was undone and Aziraphale could just reach in if he wanted to. He waited though. This was a first for one of them and it should be good for both of them. He leaned closer to Crowley’s ear again, his voice a mere breathy whisper.

“Tell me to stop and I will...”

It was unexpected, not unwelcomed by any sense of the word, but unexpected, yes. Crowley let Aziraphale tug the clasp and shivered again when he whispered so perfectly in his ear, it made a spider-crawl up his scalp and down his back. He moaned softly in response and then sat back, glancing down as he lifted the bottom of his shirt out of the way and showed off a thatch of rust-red hair. 

The shift was enough to free him and he wanted to see both himself and Aziraphale, curious if his companion would enjoy what he saw or, bizarrely, if he was inadequate and Aziraphale would decide he was done with the whole adventure. 

He desperately hoped against that. He knew he was...fumbling his way through all this, that he was almost obsessively fixated on kissing the other man, like it was as natural as breathing, honestly, and if he had ever "explored" himself, it was usually in the dark, late at night, with a kerchief in hand and a fist pressed tightly to his mouth to keep quiet and get it over with. That something sensual was supposed to happen between people made sense. He actively sought it and always came up short, either because he said something rude, he did something rude, or he was just too drunk and passed out, waking early with a headache and a disappointed partner. 

So, yes. Now. Now, displaying himself, all keyed up from kissing and showing devotion to Aziraphale, he may be trembling with nerves. Happy nerves. But also a worry that could spoil very quickly to dread.

Aziraphale watched in awe as Crowley leaned back, exposing himself. He bit his lower lip hard, while he took in the sight of that long and sinewy body with a cock that matched it perfectly. Aziraphale could feel his own twitching from anticipation. Oh, he had a plan, but first he wanted to explore that new piece of Crowley. He reached for it, letting his fingertips brush lightly over the shaft, starting from base to top and back. He did this several times, watching Crowley's reaction closely. When he didn't notice any sign of distress, other than the benign and beautiful shock that  _ someone else was handling him on a very personal and intimate level, _ Aziraphale finally took his member in a soft grip, giving it a nice, slow pump.

Crowley made an embarrassing and startled "oh" sound when Aziraphale gripped him. He sucked his lips in and bit them together to stop that nonsense from happening again and subsequently just breathed heavier to compensate. He did manage a little nod, filling into Aziraphale's hand. Generally, he was a little rougher with himself, but, again, that was more to get rid of a temporary need than anything. 

He put his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, watching him intently, squinting even to focus in on his movements. He was accidentally gripping Aziraphale's shoulders tightly and bunching the fabric of his shirt into his fists.

It felt like Aziraphale was holding an iron bar, fresh out of the forge in his hand. Crowley was burning and Aziraphale loved it, felt the need to burn himself more through touches.

He noticed the nod and pumped his fist again and again, getting a little firmer with every stroke. His pace was still slow to relish the sensation of Crowley’s cock and the reactions he coaxed out of him.

Finally, as almost a reprieve or a distraction, Aziraphale leaned forward enough to place kisses along Crowley’s jawline, nibbling here and there while keeping up his ministrations. As he came up to the tip again, he swiped his thumb over the head in small circles.

"I can.. I can take care of you or we can do this together. If you want. Oh I want you to touch me, Crowley. I really do."

Crowley nodded again, arching back and humming through his closed mouth. He unstuck one of the hands firmly attached to Aziraphale's shoulder and smoothed his unfortunately sweaty palm down his chest, seeking to get to Aziraphale’s waist. 

It was not as expertly done as Aziraphale had been, and worse yet he was going about it while he was being so well handled, but Crowley attempted to undo the front of Aziraphale's trousers. He plucked twice and then simply smoothed his hand flat across the fabric, testing out what was so wonderfully tenting his trousers, mapping out the weight of him, the heat of him.

He was unintentionally following the same pattern as Aziraphale was using to stroke him, the same slow up and down and then gripped Aziraphale’s wrist suddenly, stopping him.

"Forgive me, forgive me, I'm too far ahead and I won't last I'm sorry let me please," he said in a feverish rush, and gasped soon after. "Help. Help me. I need to get you out too," he added pathetically and then immediately buttoned his lips back up again, staring wide at him.

Aziraphale had just closed his eyes, concentrating on Crowley's hand on him when he was pulled out of it by the touch on his wrist.

He reached out and cupped a sweat damp cheek, smiling at him tenderly.

"Shh. Hey, it's alright, dear."

He let go of Crowley’s cock and opened his own breeches, tugging the wool away so Crowley could have a good view. He then took Crowley's hand and guided it to his own aching arousal, which had already left a wet spot on the inside of his breeches.

"Crowley,” he breathed as soon as those fingers he dreamed about touched his skin. “I won't last too long either..."

Aziraphale took a sharp intake of air when he encouraged Crowley to grab him.

"Come closer. We'll be doing this together."

All the jitters of before seemed to washed off and were replaced by an embarrassing giddiness of holding Aziraphale in hand. Crowley immediately closed his fingers around him and began to stroke. It helped loosen his lips too, petting Aziraphale's hair to the same even strokes he used to drag down the shaft.

The very basics were the same that he used on himself, but touching Aziraphale like this was deliriously good. He turned his hand to rub his thumb up and down, corkscrewing his grip as he went. Crowley inched closer to make it easier to work Aziraphale’s beautiful organ. 

"Lovely. Lovely. Does that feel good?" He looked up, earnestly open about his question.

Aziraphale allowed himself to moan unabashedly at the contact and strokes and the adorable question. It had been so long since he felt the touch of someone else and the fact that it was Crowley made it more intense, something he had not anticipated nor was he upset about.

"Perfect. It's perfect. You're doing so well."

He started panting, chasing the feeling. His unoccupied hand wandered back to the nape of Crowley’s neck, using it to pull him into a sloppy and open mouthed kiss. 

Meanwhile his hips moved of their own accord, bucking up to meet the rhythm of Crowley’s hand. He just remembered to tighten his own grip a little and sped up pumping Crowley to match his own thrusts.

Crowley slipped a surprised moan into his mouth, malleable and wanting. And the return of Aziraphale's hand only added to it.

It wasn't very long before Crowley had scooted right up to him, their knuckles brushing. He let go of Aziraphale and blindly removed his hand so he could press their cocks together, swiftly wrapping both with his long fingers and stroking them in tandem. 

He broke apart from their kiss with a pitched gasp, pressing their foreheads together again and began to tremble from the dual friction of Aziraphale and himself, brought right to the edge of his euphoria. 

"Angel, 'm'not gonna last," he whispered quickly, the words a syrupy mess.

The sudden press and heat of Crowley brought a deep rumbling sound from somewhere deep down. Crowley was a quick study actually and Aziraphale gasped for air when the kiss broke, taking in the soft, sweet sounds Crowley was making.

"L...let go. Crowley, darling, just let go. I'm close as…." He couldn't finish, cut off by another belly-deep moan.

The surprising sound traveled up through Crowley as well, who could not find it in himself to be as vocal, but who appreciated the sentiment. Crowley arched his back, thankfully caught by Aziraphale's hand on his neck. He bucked and twitched and released with his neck taught and mouth open.

Crowley remained silent, a practiced habit, but meant he didn't breathe either as his senses washed out in bliss.

Somehow he managed to keep his grip firm and his hand moving around the tender heat trapped between them as there was a sudden splash on his stomach, on Aziraphale's stomach, quickly spilling over his fingers.

Aziraphale gasped out and wasn't sure if there was a hint of Crowley’s name on the tip of his tongue. In the throws of his own release, he gripped some of Crowley’s hair, just to anchor him to something while the waves of pleasure washed over him.

He felt a pleasant exhaustion creeping up and let himself sink back into the pillows, but not without Crowley, who he pulled down with him. Aziraphale didn't want to lose this closeness for anything in the world and started to pepper the wonderful handsome face before him with kisses wherever he could.

There was nothing but the both of them in that moment, only the microcosmos of that bed, the feeling of bliss and deep affection. Aziraphale wished again to bottle the moment, to keep it, that it would never end.

Eventually, he was able to form words again. Aziraphale still felt breathless, but he managed a weak, "Are you all right?"

"Mnnn."

That was supposed to be an agreeable sentence, but Crowley was lost against Aziraphale's chest, or in his little kisses he peppered across him, or the slightly damp patch of hair he was obsessively curling with his finger. 

With his mouth betraying him as such he nodded instead and curled in tight around him, never mind the clothing bunched around them and if it might be soiled. That was such a distant concern.

"Mmn," he repeated and swallowed, finding his voice a little low and husky, which made him smile into Aziraphale's chest. "’'re you alright?"

"More than alright, actually. " 

Aziraphale chuckled and wrung his arms around Crowley, one hand playing with his hair, the other just laying on his back.

"We're a mess, you know. And we're still wearing shoes…."

Aziraphale started mumbling, his eyes feeling heavy. He wasn't sure if he would be able to change out of his clothes or if he actually had the energy to care. Everything important to him was laying on his chest, safe in his arms.

Crowley shifted and simply kicked off his slippers. He sighed happily and settled into Aziraphale's arms. If he were a cat, he would be purring up a storm from the gentle hand in his hair.

"Kick yours off," he muttered, his toes wriggling to loosen Aziraphale's shoes. He giggled and kissed Aziraphale's cheek, drawing a short line with his lips down to his shoulder and relaxed. 

A strange bed. A room that wasn't his own. A place he did not grow up in. And yet it was home. It felt, here, with Aziraphale, like home.


	6. Stubbornly A Coward, And Sick to Boot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little bit with Shadwell smoking his pipe in this chapter!
> 
> Also...oh no! Crowley's sick! This tragic...idiot. We love two dumb lovesick fools.

The sun had no manners whatsoever and was shining right into Aziraphale’s face. He really didn't want to wake up now, not with that comfortable weight on him. He grumbled and nuzzled into the silkyness that was brushing his cheek.

Crowley. It was Crowley and he stayed the night. They had been…. _Oh_. Oh yes, that’s right. He remembered.

Aziraphale inhaled deeply. Just a few more minutes….

He was startled by the sound of the main door being thrown open and several voices talking. One was Tracy's, a bit too loud for normal conversation. He could actually hear and worse yet _understand_ what she was saying from downstairs.

"Mr. Michael! What a pleasant and unexpected visit!"

Aziraphale's eyes shot open. _Michael_? Oh God, no, he hadn't even thought about that possibility. He could make out Michael's voice, not the exact words but he was moving to the stairs. There were other voices, but they weren't coming any closer.

Panic was taking over and Aziraphale shot up.Crowley was shaken violently awake from a pleasantly sleepless night, shifting off Aziraphale and nearly falling off the bed before he was gripped and tossed about.

"Crowley, wake up! Crowley!"

"Whuh... who's that?" he asked sleepily, not yet catching up that he was not where he was supposed to be.

He was of the opinion that he had been exactly where he was supposed to be.

Aziraphale hissed and watched the door in sheer horror. Steps were getting closer and even if he would get up now, he wouldn't be fast enough to reach the door. 

" _I think he's still sleeping, dearie. Had a long night, you see, and..._ " 

" _It's an unreasonable time to be still lounging around in bed, he should know that by now_!" 

Michael was close. Directly in front of his door, if Aziraphale had to guess. The handle was pulled down and Aziraphale forgot to breathe for a moment. 

The door didn't open. 

It didn't open? Had he locked it? He couldn't remember and he hadn't been _that_ drunk yesterday. 

_"Aziraphale! Wake up! It's me, Michael!"_

Michael banged the door twice and Aziraphale was pulled out of his frozen state.

"I.. I'm coming, just a minute!"

Oh no, this wasn't good. This was awful. He shook Crowley again.

"Crowley, get up for goodness sake!"

_"What are you babbling?"_

"N.. Nothing I have to get decent. I'll hurry!"

Seemed both the voices on the other side of the door and Aziraphale himself had opinions on whether Crowley could stay. Damn his luck.

"Shit," Crowley whispered, then curled back, slipping off the bed as silently as he could. "Shit!" He didn't have his shoes. There was a crusty _mess_ on his abdomen that _itched._ His pants had shivered down past his bum in the night and he could use a glass of water.

And an escape. 

"Angel, where's my...?" _Shoe_ was the first word and _escape_ was the second to come to mind.

Michael proclaimed that he would wait for him downstairs and retreated. It was only then that Aziraphale was rummaging around, trying to find Crowley's shoes and getting his breeches closed again.

He shoved his own shoes into Crowley's hands two times, let them fall then and tried to pull Crowley's trousers up in the same frantic measure, so that they were both gripping and tipping over and standing and nearly bumping noses too hard. Aziraphale’s mind was running wild and when he looked up to give Crowley a concerned look, his eyes were drawn to his huge window, where a solid branch was nearly touching it.

"The tree! Are you able to climb?"

He was just closing the last button for Crowley and handed him the right shoe, finally.

"Climb? Yes I can _climb._ " Crowley turned to the window and looked fraught for a second. "Where's that lead to? You know what, never mind. Just make sure, uh, they don't look out the window?" He reached across the bed and snagged his glasses, accidentally knocking off a stack of books to the floor. He winced, but laughed, sliding the glasses into place and leaving the ribbon for his hair. 

He turned to Aziraphale, looking at him crumpled and frazzled and the panic of his heart racing, which he probably mirrored. Maybe he looked calmer now that he had his sunglasses. He smiled and got close to him, stealing a quick kiss. Aziraphale chased the kiss for a second before his distress took the better of him.

"Alright. Branch. Tree. And I'll be off the property as soon as I can. Alright? Go. Go, make sure you play nice with your friend." He was teasing to lighten the mood himself, tensing as he turned to the window, trying to quietly force it open.

"I- I'll try. Ah, Crowley?"

He just couldn't let him go like this. It wasn't the ideal way to part after a first night together. Lord, he had pictured this completely different. A slow awakening, more kisses. Not this. Not the harsh reality that they shouldn't be doing this at all.

"Mind how you go... "

He watched how Crowley climbed out and got on that branch, nimble as a creature of the forest, really. When he was certain that he wouldn't fall, he tried his best to look decent enough to face Michael. Trust Michael to be the one to disturb them. And he was supposed to be away to train, wasn’t he? He was just here because...because, damn him, that’s why! Oh, rotten luck. Rotten fate!

With a last glance back to the window, Aziraphale took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He was still puzzled how it got locked in the first place.

Michael was waiting down in the hall, in full uniform. Two other soldiers were accompanying him and Aziraphale winced at the thought of how he looked. One of them grinned at him.

"A wild night?" he asked, immediately followed by a death glare from Michael. Aziraphale cleared his throat and tried to forget his current state.

"I had a little too much wine and fell asleep over a new book. Er. Hello Michael, I didn't expect you at all. And your friends…?"

They ambled down the hall, which is to say Michael marched and the two soldiers did the same, fresh off their last regiment it seemed, and Aziraphale just did his best to make one foot follow the other. They talked for as long as was appropriate, hoping that Crowley's escape was successful. When Aziraphale was finally able to get back to his room and wash himself, he discovered that Mrs. Tracy had followed him.

"How did your little Crow manage to escape?"

She was laying out some new clothes and put the books that had fallen off before back on the nightstand.

Aziraphale just gestured to the still open window and Tracy made a sound of approval.

"You locked us up, didn't you?" Aziraphale turned around and looked at her, only getting a fond smile as an answer.

Later that evening, after the proper protocol was finally put through with all the introductions and everything, Aziraphale had hoped to retreat to his room again. He wanted some time to think about what had happened the day prior, to let it sink in, but he didn't get the chance. As he was making his way back to his room, Michael came up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Aziraphale? We need to talk."

It wasn't a question. Not even a suggestion but a blunt demand.

Crowley would not receive any letters for the rest of the week. 

-

After his frightfully close escape, Crowley had slipped home in time to see Hastur returning in much the same fashion. A rare moment for the brothers to regard each other and silently decide to forget what they saw before the slunk to their respective rooms.

He had hoped to have that letter from Aziraphale that he had read, but it did not come and even wrote one himself, something short and succinct with a word about plans to see Angela again at the bottom, though the final "a" was practically scratched out. 

He even tried to go stop by the Fell's estate, but he only imagined Michael and his friends barring him entrance or, worse, to make it difficult for Aziraphale in their private lives. When he was but a mile from the front pathway, he turned around and, eventually, made his way back home.

Four times.

The week had time to sour his euphoria of the night. To let the worry of what they had done be painted in the light of regret. Not his own, but...perhaps Aziraphale regretted. Seemed more likely, given how he wasn't receiving any news, a scrap of information, even a friendly “Hello” from the Fells. And, with time, Crowley's imbibing became more severe. He gave up on social calls with others, roaming the family home and pulling out random books only to toss them away like a torn flower petal.

There was another ball coming up. Hastur was excited to attend, even going so far as to bother Crowley into cleaning himself up and getting out of the house before he became one with the wallpaper. 

"You have to," Hastur said sternly.

"I don't have to do _anything,_ " Crowley muttered, feeling macabre and dreadful, like the little lonely brat he was.

"No? But your little friend is coming," Hastur answered. "The one who's always writing you."

"Always...." Crowley jerked out of his seat. "He isn't always... he's going to be there?"

"That's the rumor," Hastur said drearily, unable to keep one last hand off Crowley's disheveled hair. "Do try to get the stain out of your shirt. Maybe powder your face."

Crowley practically scampered off to his room to prepare. Hastur was left with the coat he had been bugging Crowley about all week to borrow and an empty bottle.

They arrived in the usual fashion, pressed as far apart as they could in the family's carriage and going to the door in single file. No doubt Hastur was going to disappear immediately to find his companion, Duke Ligur.

Aziraphale was already inside. Of course, a Fell should always be on time. He was nervous, tugging on his waistcoat all of the time and had been reprimanded for it already. He was scanning the room restlessly, always looking out for that lovely flash of red, hoping to see him and fearing it at the same time.

When he finally spotted him, his heart stopped for a moment. 

Aziraphale longed to cross the room, ignoring everyone and just take Crowley into his arms. It had been a hell of a week and Aziraphale’s desk was scattered with crumpled letters.

He couldn't. He couldn’t tell him…. The knowledge of that was like a stab to his heart.

Nerves finally getting the best of him, Aziraphale tore his eyes away and disappeared out onto the balcony.

"You said he'd be here!" Crowley hissed, now interrupting Hastur.

"Crowley," Hastur grumbled back, being dragged to the side of the room. "What? Is so damn important?"

"Fell! Aziraphale! You said he'd be here," Crowley answered miserably.

"Uh, I said...he _might_ be. And, anyways, have you even looked? There's plenty of people around. Go check, you ingrate."

Crowley huffed at being dismissed. He didn't want to see these people. He wanted to see Aziraphale! Demand to know what he had done wrong. Kiss him! Not...not kiss him.

_God_ , he wanted to kiss him.

Crowley sighed, trudging back through the guests, sharing clipped greetings and pleasantries. The forced niceties was draining and he took a que from his first meeting, snagging a bottle and heading out to find a quiet balcony overlooking the garden to collect himself before he demanded they return home.

Aziraphale turned around when he heard the steps, certain that one of his family members was coming to drag him back in. He was greeted by the slender and very unnerved looking figure of Crowley instead.

He swallowed hard. He should say something, anything. He had avoided any contact for a week and it already felt like it had been months. Fear was making its way into Aziraphale’s mind. Fear of Michael or Gabriel stepping in. But there was also the unbearable ache and longing, not letting him move an inch. He wanted to talk to him at least.

"H-Hello." 

Crowley almost didn't hear it, his ears still ringing from the general frivolity going on inside. But he looked up and it was only the saving grace of his sunglasses that hid his wide, unpreparedly earnest eyes. 

"Aziraphale!"

It was more a stage whisper than a shout. The bottle felt loose in his hand and he clutched it tightly, quickly stepping towards him.

"Aziraphale," he repeated with a smile. "You're here! You're -!" 

His smile fell into concern, trying to be angry, but it was so hard to be angry in his excitement. 

"What happened? You didn't write? You didn't come by the garden house? What happened?" And, when he was close enough to touch him, Crowley whispered, "Was it me? Was it...was I terrible?"

Aziraphale dropped his eyes and nervously bit his lip. He felt ashamed that he had just broke off every contact without explaining himself.

As soon as that fragile question left Crowley's mouth he looked up at him, a mix of shock and concern on his face. His right hand came up and squeezed Crowley's biceps.

"God, no! No Crowley that was...you were wonderful! It's just…."

“Just?” Crowley whispered, still wilting, still falling from himself.

Aziraphale took a shaky breath and took his hand away again. He shouldn't touch him. He shouldn't feel that burning need to pull Crowley close and kiss every ounce of coherence out of him.

"Michael. He...he suspects something. Gabriel wrote him that he had noticed our friendliness at social gatherings and a maid told him about your visit and..."

Aziraphale swallowed and looked back to the ground. He had always thought that he'd been cautious about his _preferences_. No one seemed to be really interested in him anyways, and he’d made so little gains with potential suitors that it was almost easier to pretend he was completely off the market. Gabriel was oblivious in the case of his proclivities, only focused to become the perfect heir, holding up the family’s fortune and good name. And Michael had been off to his militaristic duties, not paying attention at all. Well, it seemed like Aziraphale had been quite wrong about that. He knew that his second eldest brother was sharp, but that he would turn his attention to Aziraphale’s private life? Unthinkable.

"He. Hrmm. He said that I'm not supposed to see you anymore. If I know what's good for the family…."

“Good for the family," Crowley repeated, his voice dull and quiet. "Do you think...that that would be 'good for the family?'"

"I was told that, if I would have chosen any other company he could keep quiet about it but not if it's a...a Starbright. Seems like I should have paid more attention to the business apparently since our fathers seem to be involved in some serious trade dispute."

He couldn't stop his lower lip quivering, so he bit it again and looked away.

"My father has a _strong_ opinion on loyalty and if Michael would tell him that we...I don't know what would happen."

Michael had made it clear what the consequences would be. He had talked about what responsibilities came with the name Fell and that Aziraphale was threatening their peace by abandoning his duty.

Crowley watched him, his face following Aziraphale's like he was going to stop him from this painful madness with some damning romantic gesture. His shoulders fell and he crumbled visibly again. 

"Angel, you...." It really sounded like he was going to end this. Completely. "Aziraphale. We can't even... just...what about us?"

Another shaky breath. It was hard to not tremble at this point and Aziraphale felt tears threatening to spill every moment.

_What about us?_

Yes, what about them? They hadn't been granted the chance to discuss that particular night, what it meant. They could not parse it down to simple lust. Their friendship had grown impossibly so in the salted earth that stood between their families and their lives. They knew how they felt. It had been something more.

A sob escaped him and Aziraphale felt his hands balling into fists at his side. He should tell him that it had meant nothing. That they should forget about this. Crowley could still find a wife he really liked, one that wasn't from the family that threatened the fortune of his.

He couldn't.

"I... You mean so much to me but I can't... I can't..."

_Can't_ meant _won't_ meant _you're not worth it, Crowley._ And even seeing Aziraphale crying, while it broke his heart, did not move Crowley enough to press forward to comfort him. To chase away the tears and hold him because Crowley felt if he moved how he truly wanted, Aziraphale would shove him away.

"Right," he whispered, swallowing thickly. "Right, no. Of course. I." Crowley cleared his throat and set the bottle purposefully on the ledge, his fingertips lingering. "I hope you have a good evening, Mr. Fell. I hope....erm."

Crowley sniffled and lifted his chin to keep his voice steady and his cheeks dry. 

"I hope we speak on happier terms again someday. Good evening." And he turned promptly to head back towards the unbearable noise of the ball that he had hoped to escape.

Aziraphale watched him go, not able to hold him back. He stayed on the balcony until he was able to pull himself barely together, but he was not strong enough to stay at that dreadful event any longer. He excused himself by saying that he didn't feel well, the look on his face making it believable.

He felt empty. Like every good thing he ever experienced was cut out of him. He had broken Crowley's gentle heart, especially after that fateful evening. Why couldn't he say that he didn't give a damn about their name or his _duty_?

Because Aziraphale was a coward. He feared to lose his inheritance, which seemed the only plausible way anymore to get out of the family's grasp. 

He was afraid to be cast out with no clue where to go. 

He was afraid that Crowley could suffer the same consequences.

Aziraphale locked himself up in his room, crying into his pillows until there weren't any more tears to shed. 

He had rolled up his left sleeve, sliding the thumb of his other hand over the ribbon left hastily on Crowley’s retreat on his desk. Aziraphale had tied it around his wrist as a secret reminder.

Crowley deserved someone brave. Someone that would oppose Heaven and Hell for him. Not someone like Aziraphale.

-

"I'm going home," Crowley announced to Hastur, finding him in a corner a little too close to Duke Ligur. He didn't read anything in their horrified expressions or the way they parted. "Now."

"Now? Crow–" 

But he quickly circumvented Hastur's hand reaching and went to get the carriage. It would take time to return and Hastur would be left without and he was too afraid to see any of the Fells and break down into bitter tears or, worse, try and attack their father or Michael even if he could just spot him and call him an idiot! A fool! A bastard who should burn in hell for keeping his–

He opted to walk.

It was chilly and his coat was warm enough for the ball but proved unremarkable to stave off the weather when he was only halfway home. By the time he arrived, red eyed, wrung out from sobbing and sniffling, he trudged to bed in his clothes. Shoes on.

He ignored the slight burning, the sickly feeling, chalking it up to miserable heartache.

-

Days passed and Aziraphale was slowly able to not bawl his eyes out every time he tried to sleep. He did feel a bit pathetic, but if he was left alone, he decided he could be as pathetic as he liked. No better time for it than before he fell asleep. 

He even tried to invest himself a little in the business, everything to take his mind off of Crowley.

It would have helped to get rid of the band or the book with Shakespeare's sonnets but he couldn't part with it.

As time wore on, Aziraphale took himself to visit town with Tracy. She was concerned about his well being, noticing that his appetite was nearly non-existent anymore and that his smiles were only a shadow of what they used to be. A change of scenery was her solution and so Aziraphale accompanied her with the prospect to visit the bookshop.

As he was strolling around, he happened to bump into Ms. Katherine and her brother. Aziraphale greeted them politely and was dragged into a boring conversation about the weather. He couldn't really follow her meandering thoughts until she mentioned a certain name.

"It really is a shame, we should have met with Mr. Starbright yesterday but he apparently felt sick, the poor man."

Aziraphale looked at her like she had grown a second head.

"Sick? How so? Or rather, has it been for very long?"

"Oh yes, quite so. He's been bedridden for nearly a week now, as far as I know. Do you happen to see him? Would you bring our best wishes?"

"Of course, yes.” Aziraphale spoke slowly, a creeping thing that sounded hollow. “I'll do that as soon as possible. I fear I have to go now though, there are urgent matters that need my attention, I'm afraid. Good day!"

Aziraphale was walking as fast as he could back to where Tracy was waiting. How didn't he hear about this sooner? What if it was something serious?

He talked Tracy into letting him off at the Starbright's estate. He just couldn't get back home without him knowing what state Crowley was in. 

Aziraphale told Tracy not to wait and to tell the others that he would be spending the rest of the day in the bookshop, which would hardly be a lie in any other case. Now, he was standing in front of the gate and took a deep, steadying breath before knocking.

An older gentleman in a rumpled uniform threw the door open on Aziraphale. 

"Aye? And d'ya have an appointment, sir?"

The man didn't so much as answer as he barked at Aziraphale, screwing his scruffy face around the words as he twisted his eye into a scowl. "With the master of the house? Or, nay, the fair lady with ya, I can see it now. She won't be wantin' visitors."

"I, err..."

Aziraphale was startled a little by the rough behavior of the servant. He came back to his senses a few seconds later, trying to put on his most polite behavior.

"Good day, sir. I was, uh, hoping to see young Master Starbright, actually. I heard his health is in dire condition and I am very concerned. He's a... dear friend. "

"Master Starbright? He's been....oh!" The valet stood taller, like he had just been reminded of something. "Master Crowley then that you’re after. Oh, aye. Sick as a dog that one. Won't take his medicine either, the loon. Says it's bitter. Course it's bitter, says I, that's how y'know it's workin'!" 

Shadwell stepped inside, leaving the door open for Aziraphale to follow. 

"Bah, ‘no,’ says he, like he's of the right mind to protest. Found him collapsed in the lib'ry again just yesterday! Gonna catch his death next. His mother, now, there's someone who knows how to sleep it off and take her medicine and get better." 

Shadwell just continued talking to himself as he wandered through the long dark hallways of the manor.

Aziraphale squinted his eyes at the mention of Crowley’s stubbornness. Oh it sounded like him to refuse it because of the taste, like a small child. But what if there were different reasons he wouldn't do it? And the sheer stupidity of getting out of bed when he had been so sick. Why would he go into the library of all things?

A little voice in Aziraphale’s head whispered that all of this might have been his fault and he felt his chest constricting at the thought.

He followed the man through the house, glancing right and left to get a view of Crowley’s home. He worried the seam of his waistcoat the whole time.

"I'm very grateful that you're letting me in, even without an official invitation Mr...ahm?"

The valet stopped and turned abruptly. 

"Shadwell," he answered. "Yer right. I didn't get a formal invitation. He'll have my head." He tsked and started leading Aziraphale right back out again. "Runnin' yer mouth. Didn't even ask, did I? Or did I? Don't think it matters. Keepin' it in order. Off we go, off we go. Y’wanna see the house? Here it is. Come along."

There were huge portraits of the family, generally Mr. And Mrs. Starbright flanked by dark woods and distant Meadows. Occasionally a portrait had older relatives, long since passed. And then Hastur and Crowley had small portrait paintings at the end of a hallway and a large family painting in the great hall. 

It was darker in most areas, colder. But there did appear to be a few stubborn plants near windows that looked like they were in desperate need of tending. As the usual person to look after them had been busy recovering in bed.

"Oh bugger, no. Listen please, Mr. Shadwell." Aziraphale simply stopped walking, looking at the valet with pleading eyes. "It is of the utmost importance that I see him! I'm deeply worried about him and I could not forgive myself if something would happen to him without me being able to speak to him, you understand."

It was a horrifying thought. He decided to stay and see Crowley, even if that meant that he might have to run away from Shadwell, searching for Crowley's room by himself.

“Maybe,” he started again. “Maybe I can get him to take that medicine."

"Can ye now?" Shadwell asked with a discerning eye. "That would be good. Most definitely. Alright, come with me." 

Shadwell pivoted and turned down a hall that led not to the staircase to go upstairs or the library or anything that would be helpful, but to the service quarter and down a creaky hallway that had a stubborn draft. He leaned against a door and fought with the doorknob a good while before it popped open at last. "Up here. Faster way to get to Master Crowley's quarters."

The way he said it made it sound closer to "Crawly" than "Crowley." It didn't matter, probably, he was still taking him up a back passageway that would indeed open right outside Crowley's door. It was how he could sneak in and out of the house without bothering people. Namely his father, Nathaniel Starbright.

Aziraphale was relieved by the turn of events and followed Shadwell further into the unknown world of service passages. He tried to memorize the way - just in case - and imagined how Crowley was sneaking around here every so often.

Before Aziraphale tried to enter the room, he turned around to the valet and gave him the brightest smile since he had parted ways with Crowley.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Shadwell. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

He then turned to the door, took a deep, steadying breath and knocked.

"Crowley?"

He didn't really wait for an answer. Crowley was sick and hopefully sleeping. So Aziraphale just opened the door and entered.

"It...It's me. Aziraphale."

" _Mister Shadwell,_ " Crowley rasped inside the dark room–the curtains were drawn and there was only a low fire going in the stony hearth. "If you're trying....to give me that _bloody_ concoction...." Crowley kept interrupting himself with a cough until the fit overtook him and he curled up on his side to have it out.

Shadwell patted Aziraphale's shoulder, peeking over him.

"And I can't tell you how grateful I am ye came here t' take over for me. Best of luck." He gave a distant, annoyed look into the dark, motioned for a small amber bottle with a tincture of some level of opioid and turned about to leave.

Aziraphale was torn between running right up to Crowley to comfort him and being too embarrassed to move. He waited for the door to shut behind him before he stepped forward, clearing his throat to get Crowley's attention.

"Mr. Shadwell was so very kind to let me in. Good Lord, Crowley, really. Look at the state you're in."

Crowley turned slowly to look over. He looked haunted, hair disheveled, back down to only the thin white shirt and breeches. He wiped his eyes and squinted in the too low light.

"Aziraphale?" he whispered. He wasn't sure if he was simply hearing things. It wasn't impossible. And the blurry figure by the door could be Shadwell yet or a very convincing coat hanging from the wall. He flopped back and rubbed his eyes again. "Aziraphale.... Oh, what's that rapscallion up to, hmm?" He laughed and coughed into his arm again.

_Rapscallion_?

Aziraphale was about to complain, but reconsidered his course. Well. He was of the opinion that he had done Crowley wrong and now, look, the poor man was on death’s door. Aziraphale should be called worse things.

"Apparently, sneaking up through the servant passageways to see you. I heard you were terribly sick and I just... I couldn't help myself." Finally, _finally_ he had crossed the dark hot room and managed to get up to Crowley’s bedside, still unsure if he'd be welcome. "And then your valet was telling me you're not even taking your medicine. You're as stubborn as a mountain goat, you know that?"

He tried to go for something light, not daring to ask if he should go, leaving Crowley alone after what he had done to him.

"He's...what?" Crowley cleared his throat and swallowed hard, looking up again. "Wait...wait."

Crowley suddenly sat up fully, pressing a cloth to his mouth to cough while still looking at Aziraphale. He looked angry. Or hurt. Or confused. He looked confused.

"You're _here,_ " he finally managed, like he couldn't believe it. "You're here! Aziraphale!"

"I am."

Crowley grabbed his arm and gripped it tightly then let go, staring at his hand. "You're here," he repeated a third time, and turned his gaze up from his hand and up and up to Aziraphale, blinking. "What the hell!"

Fair question. Aziraphale swallowed down the barb of rejection he felt he deserved.

"Would you rather I wasn't?” Aziraphale whispered. “I'm really intrusive now and I can understand it if you won't have me here. I was just very concerned, Crowley, I really was. I talked to Katherine and nobody knows how you were doing, truly. Just that you were ill. Look at you!"

Oh he was babbling now, his hands wringing nervously around each other.

Crowley watched him, still as he could be, before he started laughing. Harder than he meant to. Hard enough he started to tip away but caught himself, coughing hoarsely into his elbow. The sound of Crowley’s laughter was taking a weight off Aziraphale’s chest and he managed a wobbly smile.

"You're an ass," Crowley muttered weakly, nasally from a plugged nose, but still reaching for Aziraphale’s hands, trying to hold them closer.

"Well, I suppose I am that, too."

Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the mattress, freeing one hand to lay it softly on Crowley’s sweaty forehead.

"My, you're burning like anything! How did you manage to get yourself so sick?"

"I don't know," Crowley whispered, still smiling but clearly leaning into his hand. "I walked home from our last encounter and woke up...ughh." 

He had been walking home? The sting of guilt was back again and Aziraphale tried to ignore it, the physical contact was too good to fret. Crowley shivered. He should have another blanket and while Aziraphale considered getting up to see if he could fetch him something, Crowley held Aziraphale's arm to keep that cool hand against his forehead.

"I've been getting better. Shadwell's just a worrier."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, looking down at the fever hot and disheveled man that still looked far too beautiful and enticing, even in such a state of distress.

"Oh yes, I see that. Truly. Nothing to worry about."

“Nope,” Crowley answered, missing the sarcasm.

"Here's what will happen now. I'll get you cleaned up a little and you'll be a good boy and take your medicine. And I won't accept a no."

With a touch of coercion, Aziraphale finally got up to fetch the bowl and decanter from the vanity. He filled the bowl and soaked the cloth that was already ready. Crowley made a face at taking the medicine, but he relaxed back and waited, somewhat following Aziraphale's movements and instructions. Before Aziraphale came in with medicine or cloth, he leaned in again, propping Crowley up a little.

"We'll have to get your hair out of the way first. It'll get all damp otherwise..."

Aziraphale fumbled about on his left wrist and came up with the ribbon he still kept tied there, brushing Crowley's hair back to tie it up. Crowley moaned and protested feebly until his hair was petted back and out of the way. He sighed and leaned into the contact, all soft and complacent under his care. 

"Thank you," Crowley mumbled softly, reaching back to hold Aziraphale's arm. He'd move where he need to and sit up when he should and back down again while ensuring a hand was always on Aziraphale in case this suddenly did turn out to be a hallucination. A stubborn one at that.

Aziraphale worked slow and cautious, with a small smile on his face. This was something so delicate, Aziraphale was afraid to make a wrong move and see it shatter before him. He still didn't deserve this. He knew that much. And he really shouldn't stir any hopes or anything, really. But this, this was like a safe bubble where Michael's intimidating gaze couldn't reach.

When he was finished washing him, he laid one hand on Crowley's, absentmindedly.

"Would you care to tell me why you passed out in your library, when really you should rest in bed?" His voice was soft, only a little accusatory there at the end.

Crowley was holding him loosely with one arm while the other remained up near his head where Aziraphale touched him. 

"Library," Crowley repeated slowly. "I...was hoping. To find a book." He coughed a little but got it under control quickly. "I thought I had brought that botanical book home. But I had forgotten I hadn't...that you had.... I had forgotten," he finished lamely.

_Oh._

Right. It was still lying on the plush chair up in his room, saving Crowley’s...er, Aziraphale’s seat for him. Aziraphale hadn't moved it, since he'd been in too foul a mood to really sit there and read for his own leisure.

There was a long pause, the only sound the faint cracking from the fire.

"I'll see to that. Mrs. Tracy may be able to bring it over."

“Madam Tracy,” Crowley grumbled with a sleepy smile.

Aziraphale chuckled at the thought. He absently worked his thumb gently over Crowley’s knuckles.

"Yes, the one in the same. Is there anything I can do for you?"

_Anything. I want to do anything for you. Make you feel loved, because you deserve it_

Crowley sighed and relaxed again.

"Read to me, Angel," he muttered. "My eyes are...it's too dark in here. Please?"

"Of course, dear."

He took a book that was laying on the nightstand positioning it just so that he could let his other hand rest on Crowley's.

He started reading in a steady and soothing tone, watching Crowley drift into a peaceful sleep. He only stopped when he was certain that the other slept tight, looking at the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

Crowley was indeed the epitome of beauty just then, as selfish a thought it might be. His face free from concern and hurt. The long lashes, his grecian nose. Just everything about him. 

Aziraphale clenched his fist. He couldn't lose this. He was a coward but too stubborn to let go. He never would now, he knew. 

Aziraphale leaned forward, hovering above that lovely face before placing a light kiss on his forehead. 

"Get well, love." 

Finally, once everything was settled, smoothed out, medicine had and Crowley sleeping, Azirapahle got up and crept out of the room as silently as he could, taking the same passageway back to where Shadwell had lead him in. Shadwell met him at the bottom before he could make a complete escape. He was smoking and pushed himself up to his full height.

"No kerfuffle or kerfiffle with the Lord then?" he asked with a grin. "Take it all down like a good boy? Or did he throw it. If he threw it, jus' tell me he didn't break the bottle. They aren't cheap, y'know."

"He wasn't happy about it but he gave in in the end. Don't worry, the bottle is still in tip top condition! He's resting now." Aziraphale smiled more earnestly than he should. “Thank you Mr. Shadwell. I would highly appreciate if my visit here would be, well, not announced too much. I don't think the lord and lady of the house would like it very much."

He was about to be let out when he remembered his promise.

"Oh, one of my maids will eventually come around to bring a book for Mr. Crowley. You would be a dear if you could be the one taking it?"

"Yes, alright, books and deliveries and alright," Shadwell said, now hurriedly helping Aziraphale find the exit again. He still didn't have a proper invite and he may have been helpful with Crowley, but Shadwell didn't want to get into trouble. "Won't say you were here. Not a word. Forgotten your name already, Mr. Fell.” 

Oh, aye, he knew the Fells. He talked with some of the other help. Namely one, who was the only kind soul to him, even if she was by all rights a trollop for giving him the time of day. Maybe he'd get a chance to see that Jezebel again with the delivery of a book.

Didn't matter! Mattered to get Aziraphale back outside and the doors closed and then Shadwell could return to his smoke break, which had been seeing it's way into a solid two hours of a break by now. 

"Out you go. Got your coat, that's a good lad. Be on your way, while the sun's still out. I'll write if he dies or something. Thank _you_ ," and closed the door after Aziraphale was outside.


	7. An Arrangement is Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little more drinking wine in this chapter, at the party between Fells and Starbrights.
> 
> Also, a declaration! In a letter! They're obscenely romantic.

On his way home, Aziraphale had enough time to think about the meeting that just happened. Well, to be nice and accurate, he had enough time to _over_ think it.

What had gotten into him? Not a week ago he had told Crowley, under tears, that they could not keep this up. Breaking both their hearts. And now he just came rushing in, uninvited, pampering Crowley like a spouse would and - no, better not think about that. The sheer audacity of the whole act and Crowley had been _happy_ about it!

Crowley had said that he was unforgivable. That fateful evening out on the balcony. Aziraphale was pretty sure that he was unforgivable now. Unredeemable.

The worst thing was, he knew he would do it again. Yielding at the next opportunity to be close. He’d never been someone to withstand the temptation of earthly delights and how could he when he actually... _loved_?

Oh, there it was again. It had been there that night and it was thrumming against his chest now. He still felt where Crowley’s hand had been.

The good thing about tearing apart every little thing you’d done an hour ago was that the way home seemed to be accomplished in no time. When he got back in, he sought Tracy out, telling her about Crowley’s state and asking her to deliver the book the next day. As he mentioned Shadwell, she giggled fondly and accepted the task quite eagerly.

To add to the unpleasant situations, Michael was announcing that he was staying longer and his two companions, James and Oscar so and so - Aziraphale neglected to get surnames because he was... _preoccupied_ \- were going to be staying with them. Now six pairs of eyes that would be watching him.   
Fantastic.

When he retreated to his chambers that night, he sat down and started writing. It turned into six pages of a letter and Aziraphale fell asleep on it at one point, a streak of ink on his cheek. 

This letter was not the one he handed over to Tracy though. That one was only a short note, something about how he hoped Crowley’s health was improving and thanking him. For what, he did not specify.

Over the course of the next days and weeks, Aziraphale was trying to get as much information about Crowley’s health as possible. He still didn’t see him on any social events and was worrying again. When he was dragged out to an invitation for tea at Miss Katherine‘s estate, he was at least hopeful to get news on that matter. As much as he knew, she was still up for marriage. But, upon arrival, those hopes were dashed. 

It did not seem that any of the Starbrights had made it out to Miss Katherine's estate with the excuse of a cousin visiting in town. Rumors still spread that the younger Starbright was ill, with a few unfavorable whispers that he had contracted some deadly foreign ailment from his mysterious Spanish wife.

Of course there were other rumors that he was actually perfectly fine and the cousin was someone well off who would occupy their time.

And then another rumor that he was just a lazy drunk and wasn't worth the time to think on and, "Oh, give up on him, Katherine, he's a snake," to which she just sighed and laughed and went to speak to another guest. 

Aziraphale was pleased to hear the secret wife was working, but the other news was...troubling. There could be a real cousin, of course. They both had bigger families. But what if the Starbrights were tired of Crowley’s little games and actually got him a wife once and for all? They’d tell Katherine, wouldn’t they?

Oh, that overthinking again.

There was one familiar face in the crowd. It seemed Ligur didn't have any prior engagements and had come to visit as he was a friend of Katherine's late mother. Aziraphale decided not to speculate further on the murmurs of one Crowley Starbright and approached Ligur. He had been nice and polite once and since Hastur wasn’t here either, he would be open to talk.

“Good day, Duke Ligur. What a pleasure to see you here. May I ask where your dear friend Mr. Starbright is?”

Straight to the point, then. _Subtle, Aziraphale._

Duke Ligur had turned and looked quite happy for a moment, before his eyes dropped from Aziraphale's hair and down to his face, like he had finally recognized who he was and was not impressed. He sighed and took a drink from a small ornate cup, which did not smell like tea and in fact something more...bracing? He sighed through a slight burn and answered, "Yes, well, they're busy with that damn cousin of there's. I'm sure you've heard. I'm told your brother was even asking after them."

Duke Ligur touched his finger to his mouth and muttered, "Don't know what they see in Gabriel...."

Aziraphale perked up immediately. That mysterious cousin was interested in his stiff brother? Well, what a strange development. 

To be honest, Aziraphale didn’t really talk much with Gabriel since he had felt so miserable as of late. He had noticed that Gabriel had been out quite often, yes, but that he was interested in another person…. In someone connected to the _Starbrights_? He could feel anger coiling in his abdomen.

When it appeared that Ligur had perhaps said that a little too loudly, he changed his position to be both familiar and intimidating, and perhaps not even both on purpose. "I heard Michael's been in town."

“Yes. He is,” 

Aziraphale was just trying to be polite, but his mind was racing yet. _How dare he_. Did Gabriel get the same treatment as him about such interests or was it alright, since he was already doing so much for the family?

He eventually found his composure again and managed a tight smile.

“Yes,” he said again about Michale. “He’s off duty at the moment and brought some of his comrades with him. It’s very, uhm, lively at home. Say...is it possible that you know something about Crowley’s state of health? Rumors aren’t helping at this point...”

He visibly softened at the last question. All he really wanted to know was if Crowley was recovering. With their cousin around, he was certain Shadwell couldn’t sneak him in again.

"Rumors rumors rumors. Spread like hellfire and get twisted up in the retelling." 

Ligur grinned, a little sharp and...well, one wouldn't say feral, but one wouldn't shy away from that entirely.

"I heard he got ill and was stubborn about it but Hastur assures me he's recovering. Lost his voice for a bit. Idiot wouldn't just _rest_ and was making a racket at some point, reciting sonnets in the library until he collapsed. Must admit, I find the image amusing. After the fact, now that he’s better,” he assured, but perhaps only because, once again, he was returning niceties to someone who was overly polite to him. The training of a good duke, one might say. 

Reciting sonnets? Oh that lovely idiot. So much for forgetting that he had left the book at Aziraphale’s.

“But, no.,” Ligur continued. He's better. Well, good as you can be with Beatrice in town."

The duke shared a look like they were both in on a joke before he set the cup down on a shelf nearby with little disregard for anything. "If you'll excuse me." 

He had spotted Dagon in the crowd and wanted to go discuss some business scheme with him to grow his wealth. He patted Aziraphale's arm and slipped surprisingly easily through the crowd.

Aziraphale could feel a slight blush blooming on his cheek and he just nodded when Ligur excused himself. Well, at least Crowley was feeling better, even with that bothersome cousin around. That was something. And then the thing about Gabriel and...oh! 

Later that day, when all of the Fell’s were seated for dinner, Aziraphale paid particular attention to the conversations going on between his father and Gabriel. The feud between the two families was still set, but both seemed to have hit a deadend at this point. Aziraphale waited patiently for a good opening and Gabriel was just delivering.

“You know, Father,” Gabriel said, leaning on his forearms, fork and knife dancing over his plate. “There might be a way to somehow salvage that. I know they primarily trade in weaponry, but you have to admit the carpenters they’ve hired are...I mean, it would be a boon if we could manage it. If both parties involved need a precise recourse, as you suggested, maybe we could get it from something like...”

“An Arrangement, perhaps?” Aziraphale chimed in.

All occupants at the table fell silent and looked at him. It was quite uncomfortable, but that was his chance.

Gabriel blinked several times before he was found his voice again.

“...Yes. An arrangement! Good thinking Aziraphale.”

Gabriel gave one of his tight smiles and got back to their father who scoffed at the idea.

“It isn’t too out of the ordinary to sometimes reconsider and take up negotiations with the ‘enemy’. Some wars could be settled that way. Isn’t it so, Michael?”

Aziraphale turned to look at his other brother, smiling sweetly. He may not have been a soldier, but he had been through the academy long enough to pick up a few things and pick up a few soldiers for a midnight romp. One finds ways to learn if one must. 

Michael frowned, not sure what his little brother was up to. Finally, he relented with a nod.

The idea was planted now and Gabriel seemed to be very eager to spin that further. Aziraphale was even invited to their meeting the next day, and they managed to convince their father that a sit-down between both families might be a good idea. A dinner perhaps. It was an offering for an armistice, so to speak.

When they left their father’s study, Gabriel cut Aziraphale off with a hand on his shoulder.

“Aziraphale, thank you for that marvelous idea! May I ask where your sudden interest in our affairs comes from?” He did seem genuinely curious, but it still had the edge of a threat to it, as Gabriel’s words and manner often did. Michael’s on the other hand, did not have so much of an edge as an outright blade or perhaps a large hammer that beat you down when he was upset. How Aziraphale managed to skip inheriting this benign hardness, he wasn’t sure.

Aziraphale tried to keep a straight face but he couldn’t suppress a nervous wiggle.

“Oh, I just thought that I wasted enough time living too carefree. I’m actually thinking about establishing a business along the way and I should learn the ropes from you, shouldn’t I? Best tutor is under my roof. I should provide for myself already. I’m old enough.”

Gabriel looked gobsmacked. He patted his little brother’s shoulder a little too hard and agreed on all points before he went off to his part of the house where he probably schemed about different outfits to wear to different affairs and make money and be grand. Something like that.

So, it had worked. There would be a dinner invitation sent to the Starbrights! All of them, in fact. And it sprinkled in a touch of reborn hope in Aziraphale that they would all answer as well.

-

The argument started early and went on through most of the day in the Starbright home. What the hell were the Fells thinking, inviting them to dinner? One argument was that it should be at _their_ estate or that they should ignore it completely. Spit in their face.

Nathaniel and Jean were not spiteful men, they were just proud. And the feud had been going on long enough that they got a little mean about it. Hastur suggested some grand arson as a joke, but only because was spiteful and mean and perhaps he did like fire a little too much.

Crowley had been reading when he heard his father and uncle have their discussion, Hastur occasionally joining in. He snapped up his book that he had been using as little more than a prop so people would ignore him and went to find them in the study.

"Dinner? With the Fells? When?"

"Crowley." His father sighed and took a moment to turn to him. "It's not a vital concern if–"

"When?" he repeated eagerly. 

"Later in the week," his Uncle Jean answered amicably enough.

"Who's all invited?"

"Well...all of us."

"Even the Mouches?"

"While your cousin is visiting, I suppose so," his father said and smiled at his brother in law, who nodded as well. 

Crowley went to go find his mother, who would be better at convincing them all to go to the dinner. He didn't have to try hard. She was amenable to it, seeing at as a way to bury old grudges. Crowley almost jumped, if he only remembered to be a little somber, before he disappeared in his room and began to write a letter to be delivered at the dinner.

## -

Aziraphale couldn’t remember when it last had been that busy in and around the house. His father was still skeptical about the whole ordeal but Gabriel was good at convincing him that everything was just fine. 

The fact that both of them had a similar plan brought Aziraphale even a little closer to his brother. It wasn’t that they couldn’t stand each other, but Gabriel had always been occupied with the task of becoming the perfect heir and he just couldn’t understand Aziraphale’s ideals or thoughts most of the time.

Michael, on the other hand. Well, he had strong opinions, like their father. Aziraphale was relieved when two days before the dinner he was called to London on something about his regiment. His two friends would stay, which was a nuisance but one Aziraphale could ignore. Oscar was a really noisy fellow in particular, always eager to chat Aziraphale up on every occasion. But Oscar wasn’t important tonight. Crowley was.

Was it silly and uselessly romantic to use this just to see him again? Yes. Of course it was. Did Aziraphale care? Not a bit.

When the evening finally came - Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he had been able to survive the wait - he was standing in front of his vanity, trying frantically to tame his curls. He was already sporting a blush just from the sheer anticipation and had read the sonnets he wanted memorized just twice.

Michael wasn’t here and if someone above or below was merciful, there could be a little chance to see Crowley more often and openly. 

_If_ he still wanted to, of course.

Gabriel at least knocked before he entered Aziraphale’s room, giving him time to look up from the vanity. It was one of those rare moments where they looked closer to actual kith and kin. Gabriel looked genuinely nervous. Fretting. The sight alone helped calm Aziraphale, in a distant way.

“They’ll be here every minute now,” Gabriel said, pacing. “I wanted to make sure you’re ready. You look fine. Clean up good!”

All of them were sporting new clothes. Aziraphale stuck to his usual pallet of creams and light blues but the cut was a little more extravagant and he was even using a tartan cravat. Gabriel looked streamlined and good as always, but he seemed to be uncertain about that when he checked himself in the mirror several times.

“Don’t you worry,” Aziraphale said, watching Gabriel. “You look dashing. Whoever you want to impress, it’ll work as long as you’re not falling into one of your monologues...”

He was smiling fondly and adjusted the back of Gabriel’s collar. Was his eldest brother blushing? No, must have been an optical illusion. 

They heard voices downstairs and gave each other a nod before they went out. It was all rather exciting, like they were playing a game of secrets.

And then it was time for the Fells to line up with the staff, like the proper hosts they were. Already they could see the carriages approach, two of them for the occasion. Aziraphale felt like he had consumed a beehive for lunch. When they arrived, Mr. Fell stepped forward to greet them and Mr. Starbright was the first to exit. Then Mrs. Starbright, the cousin they must have been talking about - who was dressed in men’s clothing, but Aziraphale had thought he heard that Crowley had a woman for a cousin? - and then the man he was looking for.

His heart...beat. So hard in his chest, he thought he might be sick. He tried to hold his breath to help even it out, but when Crowley glanced up at him, he gasped and ruined his efforts.

Crowley smiled despite himself and almost waved, but was elbowed by his brother, who reminded him of everyone around. It would have to be a moment or more before Aziraphale and Crowley could get any time to talk. 

Of course they had been greeted at the front and sent around the house on a tour, no doubt to show off wealth and success of the Fell family. Honestly, it didn't matter what the elders were discussing. Even so early into the tour, Crowley noticed that Mr. Fell looked more like Gabriel than Aziraphale, strong jaw and sturdy shoulders and all. He looked immediately cruel. But that could just be the prejudice of the family and an angry feeling Crowley had for keeping him away from one of the few people he enjoyed on this god forsaken earth.

Except it was sort've lovely walking around, looking around at everything and remembering the slightly tipsy tour he had had with Aziraphale. He grinned and almost bumped into Hastur, who was laughing and sharing quiet insults with their cousin Beatrice. 

"Watch your step." Hastur shoved Crowley back, letting their father and uncle get further away. Their mother was busy visiting with Mrs. Fell.

"Watch yours," Crowley hissed back, keeping his hand in his pocket. He gave a sneer to Beatrice. "Shouldn't you be up there with the ladies?"

"Shouldn't you be locked up in your room?" Beatrice snapped back. 

Beatrice had come dressed in some of Crowley's old clothes for the evening, refusing to put on any of the gowns she had brought with her, and hung around Hastur and his friends.

"Locked in my... _what_?" Crowley laughed until their father gave them a look and they got back into line.

While Aziraphale was keeping a cautious distance- given the circumstances of all the people around them - Gabriel straightened his posture and let himself fall back to the group of younger folk. Beatrice brought Gabriel between themselves and Hastur quick to antagonize and tease, letting up when they got too noisy but somehow enjoying themselves. 

Aziraphale watched him with a feeling of curious concern as his brother made a clumsy attempt to get closer to Beatrice and talk to them. He could hear him saying something about the statues they were passing.

When their tour came close to its end, Aziraphale finally found a natural lull in conversation that he found it appropriate to approach Crowley. Crowley had been glaring at the back of his cousin's head when he saw Aziraphale approach. He straightened up, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too brightly, lest someone else from their family notice and make a comment.

"I hope the house is to your liking..."

"It is. It's a fine house. Good artwork," he answered evenly. "Thank you...or, well, thanks to your family for the invite."

"It's our pleasure, really. I hope you'll enjoy the dinner as much. We have a fine wine selection, you know." Aziraphale tried to come off as nonchalant as possible, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

Before it could get any harder to suppress the affection going on between them, dinner was ready and everyone was seated, the guests on one side, the hosts on the other, except for the heads of the families who were placed at either end of the long table.

The atmosphere was a little stiff, but they managed some nice and light conversations. Gabriel was desperately trying to coax things out of Beatrice and Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a little fond secondhand-embarrassment.

Well, he wasn't so much better off since Crowley was sitting opposite him, which allowed him the grace to glance up at him every so often. Just as he let his gaze linger while his mother gave some trite anecdote, he was startled by something brushing his knee. Aziraphale jerked a little and looked wide-eyed at Crowley, trying to ask _was that you?_ without saying anything.

Crowley was trying to be polite and follow along, ignoring his cousin and Gabriel's stilted conversations. It seemed Mrs. Fell was reaching a climax...maybe? It didn't matter what, really, even though it was a nice break in the silence and awkwardness. His hand kept migrating into his pocket and came back up to play with the silverware, pushing the food around. He gave quick, careful glances over to Aziraphale. His father insisted he take off his sunglasses and he felt over-exposed, so he tried not to really look at anyone.

Except when he caught that confused look from Aziraphale across the table, that little twitch of a question on his lips. Crowley answered with a confused gesture.

Aziraphale was puzzled and considered the people beside him. Since it had been his left knee it could only come from...Oscar? 

Aziraphale glanced with brows furrowed but the soldier was just laughing about the things his mother had just said. He eventually turned to Aziraphale, smiling a little smug.

"What's the matter, Aziraphale?"

"Uh, nothing, really. Sorry. I just thought you had something on your face there...."

 _Ugh_. It must have been an accident but Aziraphale wanted to get rid of him already. And the dinner seemed to last over a thousand years before they finally came upon desert. After it was served, the families naturally moved to the parlor for after-dinner tea and drinks.

Mr. Fell offered Mr. Starbright and his brother in law to accompany him in his study for something stronger than jasmine or chamomile.

Crowley was still lounging back, watching the soldier who had been seated next to Aziraphale. He didn't know the other fellow, had ignored introductions. A friend of Michael's or something.

"Darling, don't slouch," his mother had whispered to him, patting his hand that kept shifting from his lapel to his hair to his lips. Crowley smiled at her, sitting up again from the couch. 

"Yes, sorry. Sorry."

And while groups naturally formed and conversation picked up, Aziraphale finally, _finally_ found some excuse to chat with Crowley. He came over with two glasses of wine - the same they had been sharing before - all smiles.

"May I tempt you to a glass? We could enjoy it outside on the patioz. Get some fresh air."

"Oh?" Crowley turned to him and looked at the glasses, suppressing another little laugh. "Actually, yes. That would be...very kind of you."

He kissed his mother's hand before he started walking with Aziraphale, his limbs a little stiff and awkward, his hands hidden away in his pockets. He spotted Gabriel in the corner being ganged up on by Hastur and Beatrice again and chuckled before they made their escape.

Aziraphale didn't miss to give Mrs. Starbright a deep bow before getting out into the fresh air. Thank the stars no one else had the same idea and they were left alone for the moment. Aziraphale placed the glasses on the railing, taking Crowley in immediately, in case they didn't have too much time.

"I'm so relieved to see you up and well again. If it's too cold for you, you must tell me and we'll retreat.” 

Crowley was surprised, holding onto his elbow, smiling brightly and openly for the first time during the evening.

"No, I wore a heavier coat," Crowley answered happily, stepping in closer. "I got your book. It's been a wonderful companion while I was home. Was this all your idea?"

Aziraphale mirrored that smile, feeling his heart flutter against his ribcage at the contact. He blushed a little and looked away sheepishly.

"Ah...well, yes. I saw the opportunity and I grabbed it. But some credit must go to Duke Ligur for actually giving me a hint about your cousin."

“Cousin?”

“That she was visiting! An excuse to meet her!”

“Oh.” Crowley laughed and looked back towards the warm glow inside. “And so you have. First impressions?”

Aziraphale simply gestured with his head in the direction where his brother had been.

"Strange. But, I have a feeling that Gabriel has a different opinion. You know, if things go well and all of this nonsense between our fathers stops we could…." He swallowed a lump. "We could really spend some more time together."

"Oo, brokering business deals for time," Crowley said and laughed, shaking his head. "I suppose that's fine and all, but I don't really...."

He meant to say _care,_ but he knew that Aziraphale did and he couldn't finish that sentence. Not when it was so important, where it could once again wedge them apart. 

Crowley licked his lips and stepped back, clearing his throat and looking for something to focus on. Instead, his eyes wandered to Aziraphale's hands and he stood up again. "What happened at dinner? You looked startled by something?"

"Oh that. I guess it was nothing, in the end.” Aziraphale huffed out a laugh. “Something brushed my knee under the table and it surprised me, that's all."

He wanted to brush that off and focus on Crowley, so he changed the topic and told him about the day he came to make the sick-visit and how he had managed to invite and uninvite himself by talking to Shadwell. Crowley chuckled easily, laughing even harder at the idea of Shadwell.

In truth, Aziraphale just wanted to keep the evening light, to see Crowley's eyes wrinkle at the edge of his recently returned sunglasses. Infernal things. He wanted to listen to Crowley’s voice for the rest of the evening, making snarky comments and everything.

Aziraphale had missed him dearly.

"You know, as I tried to get some information about your condition I heard many rumors. It seems like Angel is quite established now, indeed. Besides other things."

Crowley perked up at the rumors and grabbed Aziraphale's arm.

"Is she? Katherine sent a letter while I was sick, but she's stopped recently. Most of my letters stopped recently." His laughter died off and he cleared his throat. "It...it happens. I understand. Uh." His fist crumpled in his pocket and he shook his head. "What about you, though? How are you handling all the women still hanging onto hope to get your hand in marriage, hmm?"

Aziraphale's face fell when Crowley’s did, guilt clawing its way up his throat. He had still been so cautious about their relationship, even after the sick visit. Michael's constant looming presence was just adding to it. He tried to pull himself together and even managed a weak smile.

"Ah. Well, nothing so grand. I bored the remaining contestants to death with my inappropriate knowledge of tea ceremonies. And, lucky us, this unfortunate thing between our family's business means I haven't been shoved out on the market again."

“Something about higher demands for iron, so I’ve heard.”

“Something like that,” Azirapahel agreed. “I won’t say that your manufacturing has really put a stranglehold on us. I doubt its that severe. More a nuisance.”

“I’m a nuisance now?” Crowley asked with open delight.

“Quite.”

“And how did you come across all this wonderful insight into the Starbright and the Fell dealings, hmm?”

"I actually involved myself a little in this whole business thing. Planning things out. It’s been...enlightening. And my father seems to appreciate me for a change, so…."

Even with plans, it was simply that. Mere plans. But at least Aziraphale had some and it could be a way out of his dependence.

Aziraphale shook his head to clear it and took a step forward. He was even bold enough to lay a hand on Crowley's, which was still on his arm. His voice was low when he spoke and his eyes were cast to ground.

"I am sorry. For all what has happened I. Crowley, I missed you so dearly."

Crowley's breath caught in his throat and he scanned above Aziraphale's head. It still seemed people were busy inside, as far as he could tell. They were closer, their foreheads touching.

"I reacted harshly. I thought you didn't like me. But I know. It's difficult with Michael."

He wanted to brush his lips against Aziraphale's skin, but kept himself from succumbing, still afraid that this was going to break down again. He wondered idly if he was still sick, that his fever might be returning.

"I pray, Angel, that this whole ;business with our families’ calms down."

A loud laugh from inside burst the bubble they had been in and Aziraphale startled when Crowley did. He took a step back and let his hand slide down from Crowley's.

He really was greedy.

"Me too..."

He thought about something lighter to go back to, when he heard steps approaching. He was sure it would be his mother or, God forbid, Gabriel who perhaps had plans to to do something _romantic_. So it was a surprise when it was neither of them. Instead, the annoying figure of Oscar approached.

"Ah, there you are! Enjoying a little bit of fresh air yes?"

Crowley clenched his jaw, thankful that he was turned away from the intruder on their conversation and that his sunglasses hid the obvious disdainful eye roll. He grabbed at his wine glass and clenched a very crumpled letter in one hand before he greeted the soldier. 

"Indeed we are. Beautiful night out. You're Michael's friend, right? Apologies, I wasn't paying attention during introductions. I've been unwell recently." 

He titled the glass in greeting to Oscar, his smile tight. Oscar was what you expected from a soldier. Tall, broad shouldered with a defined jaw. His hair was blonde and long, similar to Crowley's.

"In fact, Aziraphale was out here keeping me company so I didn't collapse in the rose bushes." 

He laughed at himself easily enough, then busied himself with a long, thoughtful drink.

Aziraphale had noticed the glances from the younger maids whenever Oscar was around them and he supposed that he was the typical dream-come-true for most of them. He was an annoyance for Aziraphale.

The soldier stuck out his hand for a greeting, smiling smugly at Crowley. And Crowley looked at the hand without taking it, his own full at the moment with cup. With letter.

"Oscar Baxter, Mr. Starbright. Yes, Michael is my commander. I served under him for some time now. Heard about your health, good for you that you're up again." He was polite and somehow carefree, with an air of annoying confidence around him. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your little conversation, but I fear I have to snatch him away for a moment, his mother asked for him."

Aziraphale frowned at this. His mother was capable of getting him inside herself but maybe she was occupied with making conversations. He sighed audibly and flashed Crowley an apologetic smile.

"Duty calls, as they say. I'll be back in a jiffy and maybe we can continue our... _discussion_ when I'm back."

."No, yes,” said Crowley, blinking himself out of his thoughts. “Of course. I wouldn't keep you from your mother. I do hope we can continue shortly," he added with another tight smile at the soldier. "A pleasure, Officer Baxter." 

Crowley did not bow his head or offer any sort of warm gesture, instead drinking some more. He only returned the letter to his pocket so he could fix Aziraphale's waiting glass on the banister near his elbow.

Oscar raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He turned around instead, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s back to stir him a certain way, which made Aziraphale twitch.

They went in, but Aziraphale couldn't see his mother anywhere obvious, so he didn't mind walking further. He only thought that something was not quite right when they entered the empty hall, far off from where everyone else was enjoying themselves.

"I don't really think that my Mo-" 

Aziraphale didn't get any further with his concern as he was crowded against the back of a statue, Oscar's hands caging him in on either side of his head.

"Just what the _hell_ is going on here?"

The officer only smirked and came closer.

"You know I've been trying to get your attention since I arrived and then that spectacled twig walks in here and you're all fixed on him..."

 _Oh my._ So _that_ was the case. Aziraphale had just straight up ignored any advances, too involved in his thoughts about Crowley.

##  **-**

Crowley leaned against the cool banister and dropped his head onto his forearms, groaning to the ground. He stood up again and looked at his hands, flexing them, unflexing them, determined to get the nerves settled. 

When he was back, Crowley would do it. He would! He'd just ask Aziraphale and when he said no, he'd thank him and he wouldn't pressure it and he'd go home and he wouldn't cry and that would be that! And maybe he'd burn down the garden cabin just to soothe his soul.

No. Those violets were finally recovering. He couldn't burn down the gardener's house. He could yell in it a while. A whole day, even. Yes. He could do that.

##  **-**

Great! Aziraphale finally had a chance to get things into a hopeful direction and now this scoundrel was about to cause a commotion, threatening the fragile bond between the families. Aziraphale had to get this under control.

"I think you might’ve got the wrong idea somehow. I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in any fashion and I would highly appreciate it if you would retreat and drop this act this instant."

**-**

Mrs. Fell came out to the patio, followed by Crowley's mother. They seemed to be having a nice conversation and she beamed at Crowley when noticing him. Though temperament and goals might not always match up, one could see clearly that Aziraphale inherited that smile from her.

"Ah, young Mr. Crowley. Your mother was just telling me about your latest struggles. I'm happy that you could join us today. Say, have you seen Aziraphale? I thought he had been out here with you."

Crowley straightened, prim and proper for his mother and, supposedly, for Mrs. Fell, too. He was about to say something when his mind clunked to an ungraceful halt and his mouth was left open while his hand wilted back down to his side. 

"Wait, Aziraphale wasn't with you?" he finally asked. He tilted his head in confusion. "Oscar said...I'm so sorry. I will gladly return to chat, ladies, I've just remembered something important I wanted to discuss with your other invited guests. Could you excuse me?" 

He gently gripped his mother's arm and kissed her cheek as he passed, smiling at Mrs. Fell and walked swiftly back into the house, leaving the wine behind.

Crowley only had a rudimentary understanding of the place and followed the sounds easily back to the other guests, straining to find Aziraphale amongst them. No such luck, of course, but he intervened on a conversation happening in the corner with Hastur, Bea, and Gabriel.

"There he is," Hastur grumbled, leaning against the wall. "Wondered when you might join us."

"No, sorry, I–"

"Dear, dear, _dear_ cousin," Beatrice began, her face remarkably unreadable as she also lounged in the corner in her borrowed slacks and waistcoat. She flicked a familiar hand against Gabriel's arm. "Gabriel here is explaining...I dunno, something about war and we keep reminding him his brother isn't here to correct him. It's not sticking."

Gabriel huffed and gave Beatrice an irritated look. 

"Right, fine, great. War." Crowley gave a sarcastic cheer and gripped Hastur's arm. "Have you seen Aziraphale recently?" Then his gaze tracked up Gabriel. "His mother...our mothers were looking for him. On the patio."

“I was just talking about historical facts, no need for Michael’s expertise on- what?” Gabriel’s face took a moment to catch up with his thoughts, as it seemed. “Aziraphale? Officer Baxter and him went out in the direction of the hall. No idea why. Tell _him_ to get back here and we’ll discuss _war_ ,” he added, one might even say almost _playfully_ when he turned back to his previous conversation partners.

Bea's mouth curled into an uncharacteristic smile, a shadow of happiness that came and passed as quickly as a cloud. Crowley did not have time to unpack the strange fascinations and infatuations of his mercurial cousin, so he simply thanked them and excused himself abruptly _again._ People might think he had no manners. Better than just racing out of there, he supposed, not that it _mattered._

**-**

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was trying his best to push a very persistent soldier back, who seemed to have not listened to him at all.

“I’ll say it one more time. Stop this, right now without a fuss. I have guests!”

And they said they would teach some manners in the higher ranks. Aziraphale could not think of any moment where he might have shown any interest in Oscar. He seemed to think that he was quite an irresistible man. Oscar came closer again, still with that smug expression fixed so permanently, one might think it was cut into his skin.

“You know, I think that you’re quite pent up and could use some fun. Loosen up. I’ve heard rumors, you know, how loose you can be. And it was plain as day, really. I could spot what kind of person you were right away and I bet you never had a real man even once back in training....”

One of Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up and he gave him a glare that shot daggers.

 _See what kind of person you were?_ Hah! Oh, lord, there were rumors about him too...he should concern himself about that. No, he shouldn’t! He had plans for the future that would take him away from this and this Oscar fellow can just...just….

“Alright, I warned you. A _real man_ wouldn’t have the audacity to do something like this, in a house where he’s a mere _guest_!”

**-**

Crowley sought out the hallway, listening intently for any short discussion, for the unmistakable timber of Aziraphale's voice. Even Officer Baxter's, really, that scoundrel. Stealing Aziraphale away. Listen! If he were a jealous man, sure, maybe he would have kept Aziraphale back on the balcony with him and told the other man to, in so few words, _fuck off,_ but he hadn't thought it right to keep Aziraphale to himself, especially in his family home. It would raise suspicions or what have you. Abysmal thought, raising suspicions. Really ruined their chances for close discussions and closer intimacies and, well, Crowley took a deep breath.

But. Oscar there had been sitting right next to Aziraphale and he had made that delightfully surprised face only to be confused. Crowley didn't understand it at the time, maybe a hiccup or something, but he was still paranoid enough to go looking for him. That Oscar had touched Aziraphale in some way...that Aziraphale had first hoped it was _Crowley_ who had touched him…. And lying about needing him for his mother. What a bastard.

Then, suddenly, a faint hint of hushed voices could be heard. There was a pointed moment of silence followed by a very undignified and surprised _oof_. Aziraphale's voice was coming from behind a Persephone statue, icy and stern.

"I told you that it was my last warning. I would say you go back to your chambers now. You're not looking too good."

He came around the statue, his face a mask of stifled anger with a hint of a flush. If someone would look closely, a pair of boots could be seen behind the statue, giving the impression that somebody was kneeling there. 

Aziraphale's steps were fast and he turned back to the direction where he'd been lured from before when he nearly ran into Crowley. Crowley inhaled sharply, reaching out and catching Aziraphale before they collided. The voices had certainly drawn him in, but the painful sound had alarmed him and he rushed over, suddenly glad to be made unnecessary.

"Ang...." Crowley blinked and shook his head clear, biting off the end of the accidental pet name and looked over at the pair of boots with a knowing smile. "Are you alright?" he asked quieter, motioning for them to retreat further down the hallway.

Aziraphale let go of a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His features softened immediately and bringing more distance between the both of them and the groaning statue. 

"Yes, yes I'm alright now. You can't say that about Mr. Baxter, but that's his own fault."

He was shaking a little, not out of fear but tension that was now subsiding. Aziraphale took a steadying breath and managed a smile. Crowley took his hand and squeezed it for a moment before he dropped it. They didn't bother to check back on Officer Baxter again.

"Your mother was looking for you," he said and remembered the poor excuse earlier. "Actually looking for you this time. She's been entertaining my mother. Last I saw, they were out on the balcony."

Crowley walked with him around the corner and stopped them from re-entering the party. 

"What happened?" he whispered, in case someone could still hear them nearby.

"Well..." Aziraphale blushed a little and tugged at his waistcoat. "Officer Baxter was under the impression that I would be interested in him. Don't ask me how that happened, I have no idea." He leaned in a little with a glint in his eye. "I declined, very pointedly. I guess he'll have some trouble to stay straight for a while. In more ways than one."

Crowley's eyes sparkled behind his sunglasses, but his smile was bright and genuine enough for Aziraphale to see. He didn't know why he thought Aziraphale had it in him, to take care of himself in such situations. But he loved him for it. He loved. 

He loved him.

"I can't believe," Crowley started, his voice mellow and caramel-warm. "One of Michael's. After the shite he gave you." He laughed anyways and shrugged in a _what can you do_ sort've gesture. 

"I don't think that Michael knows about this but I'll be sure he will."

"Well. Come on, anyhow. There's better company out here."

Aziraphale felt lighter now. The little mishap had given him the opportunity to release some steam. 

"I am already in the best company possible."

he beamed back at Crowley and gestured in the direction of the others. He felt so good now, he even joined the conversation with Hastur, Beatrice and Gabriel. 

**-**

The evening carried on without other unpleasant things. No ugly missteps. No harrowing face of Officer Baxter floating in the background like a predator. Their fathers emerged from the study some time later, a little tipsy even. They still had their grumpy expressions but Mr. Fell was not screaming, there was no thick vein pulsing on his forehead and he seemed to be relaxed, for his standards. Mr. Starbright had a rosy complexion, a skewed smile, and once or twice clapped Mr. Fell in a companionable sort on his back. It was a bloody success right there.

Aziraphale stayed right at Crowley's side through the evening. He didn't want to miss his chance of doing it without too much suspicion. They were all guests, after all, and it was only polite to entertain him.

Gabriel then offered to show some other parts of the house to Beatrice, inviting Hastur right with it even if he didn't really want to. Hastur only moaned at the prospect of more useless touring and sight-seeing when Beatrice gripped his hand and pulled him along. He did it because she was certain it set off some unfavorable tick in Gabriel, and she delighted in pressing him into uncomfortable positions and manners. But she let go of Hastur's hand on their tour and transferred it to hold Gabriel's arm, listening and teasing him almost endlessly.

Aziraphale declined to join them, saying that he had to show Crowley a particular book in the library. The two groups broke apart and Aziraphale and Crowley made their way to steal a little bit more of their precious time alone.

Crowley didn't mind the departure. He was happy to follow Aziraphale further into the house, away from the conversations, which were not necessarily dull this time, nor were they always nice, but still managed to give him a little bit of a headache. Some peace and quiet with Aziraphale was most welcomed.

Aziraphale closed the door behind them, shutting out all the chattering. He lit some of the gas lamps, which instantly washed them and their surroundings in a warm flickering light. They were alone, finally. There wasn't too great a chance that someone would come to disturb them, with Gabriel busy impressing Miss Mouche and the other members of the party deep in meaningless conversation. 

Aziraphale took hold of Crowley's arm and tugged him along to a settee, a little further in the back.

"So...now we have some time for ourselves, without any noisy cousins or soldiers..."

"Finally," Crowley answered with a laugh and took off his sunglasses, tucking the wiry tines of the frames into a little inner breast pocket. He sighed, relaxing visibly, rubbing his eyes and sitting back while idly playing with Aziraphale's hand. "I think this was a success, don't you? I think it was. I'm so glad for it, but...." He laughed again, the sound appearing to have almost surprised him. "I'm more glad to just be here with you."

"Yes, I do think so myself. One of my better ideas, actually.”

Aziraphale wiggled happily and scooted a little closer, watching how Crowley's slender fingers danced over his plump hand. They had earned this, this tender moment just for the two of them, without anyone else's expectations or demands. 

Aziraphale leaned over and laid his head on the others shoulder while sighing contently. This was like coming home after a long and exhausting trip. He squeezed Crowley's hand and brought it up to his lips, brushing barely-there kisses over the tips. Crowley stilled so he would not jar Aziraphale and drive him away from this affection. If he smiled, he did so carefully, his heart hammering pleasantly in his chest. 

"Inspired, really," Crowley teased. He turned to rest his lips on Aziraphale's hair, the steady pressure of him, flushed with that same burning fever of want again at those tiny little fingertip kisses.

Crowley's free hand was shaking and he hid it up against Aziraphale's chin, tracing the skin there a moment before sitting back enough to make him look up. 

"I want all these moments with you, Aziraphale," he whispered seriously. "I'm so tired. Of worrying about what other people might think. I only care what you think. I'd gladly spend the rest of my days seeking out the answer to that question with you."

Aziraphale was at a loss of words. He was looking at him wide eyed, maybe even owlishly, not daring to blink. If he wouldn’t know better, this sounded like...no, no it wasn’t that. And he should say something. At least breathe.

“Crowley….” It was choked, and even he might admit it to be just a little teary. “I...I want that too. I want to see you everyday, hear you threatening plants to grow to your liking. I-”

He cut himself off and cupped Crowley’s cheek. It was grounding, making it easier to speak.

“I want you. All of it.”

Crowley broke a little on the plants, which expressed itself as a dangerously watery laugh. He cupped Aziraphale's face and ghosted his lips above his, smiling at the last admission. 

"All of it," Crowley repeated, nodding until he landed the mark and kissed him.

Aziraphale simply melted, his fingers on Crowley’s cheek were twitching slightly.

Every concern and fear was forgotten. Crowley’s warm and silky lips were the only important thing now.

The full weight of Crowley’s words just sank in. He loved him. He had just confessed his love for Aziraphale, surely, and it felt like he would burst, because there was no part of him that wasn’t filled with that warm feeling. And he felt something warm rolling down his cheek but couldn’t care less. He concentrated on kissing Crowley deeper instead.

Except the tear didn't go _completely_ unnoticed. Crowley trapped it with his thumb, leaning in a little more and brushing his cheeks. If he were honest, he had started shedding a few of his own, melodramatic fool that he was, too happy to feel and taste and hear the contented return of his affections. 

It felt wonderful, that painful knot in his chest slipped loose when he wasn't rejected, which he had prepared for but it was so much sweeter like this. 

"Angel. _Angel,_ " he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips, smiling before he returned to licking every tender corner or breathing him in. "I love you," he answered, just to be certain Aziraphale knew. It was important that there be no doubt, even here, curling around him.

Aziraphale smiled into the kiss, now both hands on Crowley’s face. He pulled back a little and gazed in those wonderful golden eyes, all welled up but full of love and, oh, he hadn’t said anything in return.

“And I love _you_ , my dear. Most ardently.”

He resumed kissing eagerly while brushing Crowley’s tears away now. He pressed into him, chasing more contact, more of Crowley, well aware of the space on the settee. Now it was out in the open with no chance of taking them back. He never wanted to. 

“I love you. Love you...”

It was muffled with Aziraphale’s lips occupied, but he wanted to say it again and again until his voice would fade and then he would find other ways to tell him. Crowley's startled laughter was soothed over and he matched Aziraphale, touch for touch, kiss for kiss, greedily pulling now at his sides to make certain they were slotted in close. 

They forgot to breathe. Crowley pulled away with a gasp, stretching his neck and laughing, half gasping towards the ceiling. It was undignified and everything, but he didn't find it in himself to be embarrassed, only living in the thrilling emotion he felt wrapped around them. 

"I need to remove this," he whispered with a giggle, plucking playfully at Aziraphale's cravat. "I need to kiss your heartbeat, I think."

Aziraphale giggled and buried his face in the junction between Crowley’s neck and shoulder.

“My, Mr. Starbright. We’re eager, aren’t we?”

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Fell. I've always been told I go a little fast." 

Aziraphale kissed the underside of that deliciously defined jaw and pulled himself up again slowly, grinning like a fool. He couldn’t care less. While peppering Crowley’s face with more little kisses he used one of his hands to loose the cravat. It took a bit of fumbling, but he eventually managed to get rid of the knot. He pulled back yet again and started to unwrap the pesky piece of fabric until it was only hanging loosely around his neck. He cocked an eyebrow in a silent request.

Once Aziraphale's neck was bare, and it certainly did seem like that might not happen, Crowley perked his shoulders up to his ears in glee, swooping in gently to cup his cheeks again and plant his lips on that perfectly warm skin.

Crowley could only guess he got to a pulse point. It didn't matter in a technical sense. It was more important to explore, to relay devotion on as much of Aziraphale as was available, and to lick and very lightly bite directly beneath his jaw. It was supposed to be enticing Aziraphale, but Crowley ended up moaning against his skin, so worked up from admiring this beautiful man.

Aziraphale laughed a little but not for long as Crowley’s lips touched his overheated neck. Oh it was lovely, more even. His breath hitched when he felt the teeth and was sure that Crowley would be able to feel his heartbeat in his whole throat. One of his hands pressed Crowley closer while he stretched his neck to give more access. The hand on the back of Crowley’s head snaked into the hair, tugging at it slightly.

Crowley was never not delighted that Aziraphale returned his hand to the back of his neck, a reminder of something grounding and possessive. It felt like returning to his senses, that it was alright, that through whatever they did, Aziraphale was _there._

He arched to get closer, his hands wandering to pluck and pick at Aziraphale's coat. He was eager to comply to get the coat off, which wasn’t easily accomplished with one hand in Crowley’s hair and his position in general. Crowley hummed, just a little less louder than the soft shift of their fabric and the uneven crinkle of the well-worn paper tucked away in his pocket. He was too busy to care about those old words, worrying the skin on Aziraphale's neck like he meant to bruise it. To see it later when they were all buttoned up would be more thrilling than he could bear. If he could put a possessive arm around his shoulder and share a knowing grin with that bastard Baxter, _God_ would that be thrilling.

Aziraphale didn’t want to lose the contact, delighting himself with the idea of the promise of a mark left over by Crolwey. Oh he wanted that, all over if necessary. But the coat had to vanish first. He shrugged awkwardly, trying to get it off his shoulders. He was almost successful when there were voices, floating in from the corridor. 

Aziraphale froze and sat up, looking in the direction of the door. He was alarmed but not too panicked, since they were hidden away. 

It was Gabriel’s voice, sounding annoyed and not too close. He seemed to be involved in a heated discussion with Hastur and the snickering of Beatrice was following it. Aziraphale sighed deeply and looked at Crowley. 

“God damn them,” he hissed out, letting his shoulders sink. “I guess someone will search for us sooner or later...” Aziraphale sighed again, leaning his forehead against Crowley’s. “I think we have to postpone this.”

Crowley hummed a sloppy string of consonants together, tipping against Aziraphale. He was right but Crowley didn't _want_ him to be right. At least the voice of his brother and cousin was like a short ice bath to his libido.

"Ngh...nn...right. I suppose."

Another short whine before he smoothed his hands down Aziraphale's clothes, not to remove them but to help him straighten out. He could even tie his cravat for him if he wanted. And, in fact, Crowley’s help was highly appreciated. Aziraphale was basking in the intimacy of it.

“I’m not happy about that development either, love. But...” He leaned in, right beside Crowley’s ear, his voice low and raspy. “The next time we’re alone I won’t leave anything between us. I’ll be worshiping every inch of you, Crowley, I promise.”

He pecked his temple and stood up, trying to smooth down his hair.

“We should get a wiggle on before they come in here with you still looking so...let me right your hair.”

Crowley stared up, dumbstruck by the proposition. Like he was going to just get up...just go? He had to swallow a few times, almost glaring at him, but his features were too soft and fond to translate. 

Finally, with helpful hands and one chaste kiss to his forehead, Crowley got up and headed out through the terribly intimate library. He fished out the glasses and struggled to shove them back into his face to hide how flustered he was.

"Oh, we don't need to go here," Hastur groaned. "The library? Where's Crowley; he would _love_ this."

"Are you actively fighting against any education for a reason, dear cousin, or is this some masculine display? Because I don't think it's going to gain you any favors," Beatrice answered, still holding Gabriel's arm, even if she had not stopped teasing him for the entire evening.

Gabriel was nodding, enjoying how that blasted Hastur suddenly became the target of mockery. He enjoyed the hold on his arm even more, shifting it a little to get closer. Before he could say anything, the library door opened and Aziraphale emerged, looking quite lighthearted.

“Oh, you’ve been there the whole time? That’s so typical, Aziraphale. We have guests!”

"We're the guests," Beatrice answered, deadpan, and motioned between herself and Hastur.

And Crowley, who was emerging with a book. "Oh, goodness! You're all gathering here without me?"

"I _knew_ you would be in here!" Hastur shouted with an accusatory point and smile. "They offer us food and drink and some semblance of a conversation and you still end up running away? Really surprised you didn't climb out the window and walk home again."

"Ever the charmer, Hastur," Crowley said tightly, shifting to lean casually against the door and slipping his hand into his pocket, the other clapping the book shut. It turned out to be some almanac from three years ago. "Right in front of two Fell gentlemen too. Good thing Father isn't trusting you solely with the negotiations."

“Yet," Hastur sneered.

"I'm so very sorry, I forgot the time! It seems to me that my brother was entertaining? Maybe we should all head back to the lounge, yes? I reckon it's quite late."

Aziraphale was all polite smiles and lead the way. Gabriel was puzzled, noticing a spring in his brother's step that hadn't been there. Before he moved, he saw something peeking out under the door of the library. Gabriel picked it up - a letter - and frowned at it. Well, he could take a look at if later on. Aziraphale was right, they should go back. He pushed the crumpled piece into his pocket and started to move, laying one hand on Beatrice's arm where they were connected.

Hastur continued to sneer, making subtle rude gestures that Crowley fought to return in stride as brothers do and then not when he caught Aziraphale's eye back in the lounge with the rest of the family. He sighed and smiled as a friend–oh, just a friend, how sneaky–and mouthed, _I think we're in the clear._

Though the patriarchs of the family were not bosom buddies by any means, it seemed that Mrs. Starbright had happily spent the evening with Mrs. Fell, laughing brightly. Crowley and Hastur could not ignore how happy their mother seemed and it softened their demeanor. 

The rest of the evening went by until it was unthinkable for everyone to remain upright. Even though nearly everyone was tipsy right now, the Fells all lined up to bid their guests farewell. Gabriel was even so bold after some wine that he was kissing Beatrice’s hand as a goodbye gesture. Aziraphale was impressed.

"Out, out, out, out," Mr. Starbright insisted, somewhat playfully. Mrs. Starbright had already said she would be sending an invitation out to Mrs. Fell for a chance to sit together next week and laughed brightly up at her husband, then hugged her children and kissed their cheeks. They groaned, but were amicable to it as they piled inside their carriages to get home.

Beatrice had a subtle blush on her retreat with her father into theirs.

The Fells stood together and watched the Starbrights carriages take off when Gabriel remembered the letter he had found. He reached into his pocket to get it out, standing beside Aziraphale, who was still looking after the carriage longingly.

"I've found that under the library's door. Is it yours?" 

Without waiting for an answer from his little brother, who'd looked over now, interested, he opened the letter.

The letter was noticeably creased and wrinkled and a few words smudged from their abuse in both pocket and a sweaty hand. Three twigs of dried ambrosia tumbled out at the bottom, tied together with a thin red ribbon.

> ~~_Dear._ ~~
> 
> _Dearest Angel,_
> 
> _I won't deny my affections any longer. I should. I know I should and you were smarter than I to rebuke them but I see clearly that neither the sins of our families nor the sins of our union will ever dampen that you, love. You. I chose. I want. I pray for you._
> 
> _I cannot forget your kindness, nor friendship and it is not the simple carnal desires that have incensed this but your spirit and your wit and your heart. I wish it were mine._
> 
> _I hope it can be mine._
> 
> _I hope._
> 
> _I hope you would want mine. And if it is still yet our families that are barring our union, then run away with me. I said it before and you turned it down, probably with a level head, but I am beyond reason. Please. We'll figure it out. You're so smart and I trust you. Hell, I'll sell every meager possession I own and work in the fields and in other people's manors and with beasts and children and gardens. It doesn't matter, just_
> 
> ~~_If the answer is no, tell me plainly. I'll return your book, you should keep such a wonderful gift, it is truly remarkable. And I'll promise not to send letters again and I'll_ ~~
> 
> _Truly yours,_
> 
> _-Starbright_

Gabriel's face shifted with various emotions while reading before a hand from the side snatched the letter away.

"Aziraphale, would you mind to... _Aziraphale_!"

The man in question was on a hasty retreat, beet red and eager not to discuss anything right now. Gabriel wouldn't have that though. He stormed after his brother, who sported an uncharacteristic pace, making it actually harder than anticipated to keep up with him.

"What was that? I mean, I know what it was but how? _When_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm tired and I'll go back to my room and would like to not be disturbed."

"I can read, Aziraphale! _Angel_? Really?"

"That's none of your business! Who knows what kind of name you have in storage for _Beatrice_."

Gabriel made an irritated sound.

"That's not for discussion here. What were you _doing_ in the library? I mean.... There was a bit about ‘carnal desires’ in there. Aziraphale!"

The pursuit came to a halt when Aziraphale had reached his room and fled into it. A click of a turned key sealed him away.

"Azira... "

" _Good night, Gabriel_ _!_ "

Gabriel sighed and accepted his momentary defeat. He did not want to accuse Aziraphale of anything, he was just...very much surprised. However, defeated, Gabriel walked back to his own room, ruminating about a suitable pet name for a certain stubborn individual.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was leaning against his door, reading the letter again and again before clutching it to his chest, the dumbest and happiest smile on his face.

He felt so loved, he wanted to shout it out, let anyone know.

When had Crowley become such a romantic? Well, maybe he always had been, he was very kind-hearted and fragile on the inside and there was so much to still discover and.... He had to see him again. As soon as possible.

The other matter had to be settled too, in regards to his personal business venture, but he still had to wait for an answer anyways.

Aziraphale pulled out some paper, writing so fast that he splattered ink all around.

> _We should meet soon. We must meet soon. Same place as always?_
> 
> _-A._

He would send a courier first thing in the morning.


	8. Atop the Hill

The Starbrights had started on a late morning, breakfast a slow, loping affair as they harbored differing levels of hangovers.

Crowley woke up earlier, with a spring in his step that could not be tampered by Hastur's foul mood and his parents sleeping in, even the usually punctual Mr. Starbright finding solace under a pillow and comforter. 

It was Beatrice who had joined him in the morning, hugging her knee up to her chest at the table, no regard for proper sitting and manners. There was nobody else to see them, so it didn't matter. Crowley busied himself with a book, hunched over but comfortably so and resting heavily on his knuckles.

"You're in a good mood," Beatrice answered the silence, playing with a plain saucer. 

"I didn't say anything," Crowley said, his sunglasses pressed up into his hair. He glanced up. "Or do you mean  _ you're _ in a good mood and I should comment on it."

"I am." Beatrice smiled slyly, folding her hands on the table. "For reasons. I suspect you have  _ reasons _ . Relating to that dinner we had. And some people there."

"Mmhmm," Crowley answered distantly, slowly turning a page.

“Will you tell me, then?”   
“I will not,” Crowley said only for Beatrice to snit and sneer and tell him off in fewer words. He just smiled at the page and continued with his reading.

The day warmed up naturally from there. Beatrice decided she wanted to go into town with her father and Hastur took the excuse to join them. 

Crowley went out to the gardening shack to keep out of most people's attention until a slightly frustrated Mr. Shadwell came to find him, handing over a missive. Crowley looked confused until he took the letter and tore it open. He smiled at the familiar script, and got up immediately to write him back.  _ Of course. Usual spot. I'll meet you there. _

Crowley had someone - not Mr. Shadwel, poor man, it would take him hours to get it to where it needed to be - return the message to the Fells as he went to his room to get his letter. He noticed it wasn't in the same trousers as yesterday. Maybe he hadn’t left it in his trousers. Crowley tore through his jacket next.

Not there. 

Panic started to set in as he upturned his room, wondering where he had dropped it. At home? In the carriage?  _ In the Fell’s home? _

Crowley had worked himself up into a proper frenzy that was tempered with time screaming in the gardener’s house, a favorite for him and formative for his plants, as he was certain.

Of course, it was exhausting worrying about the fate of a very personal love confession, so he had stretched out on the dusty bed in the little cabin and was napping in the thin stream of light through the dark windows.

-

To be up early wasn't something terribly uncommon for Aziraphale. He enjoyed the silence on such days, the peace of being the only one around.

It was unnerving now. He sat at the breakfast table, bouncing his knee and waiting for one of the younger servants - Jeremy or something - to emerge out of the depths of his quarters already. He had even considered saddling old Lazarus himself and riding to the Starbright's estate, but that would be overly dramatic.

He wanted that letter to be delivered as soon as possible.

Azriaphale perked up when he heard footsteps and deflated at the sight of Gabriel. He looked a little gruff, but determined to get some answers from last night. Doubly so when Gabriel sat down opposite of Aziraphale and nodded. Aziraphale returned the gesture.

"So... You and Crawly?"

"Crowley."

"Yes, sorry. I was a little worried it could have been the other one."

Aziraphale pulled a face. 

"Hastur? Good Lord, no!"

The two shared something of a knowing smile and shook their heads for different reasons. Aziraphale occupied himself and sipped the tea that had been cooling in front of him.

"Where have you met his cousin before?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow in question and Gabriel squinted.

"That’s not answering my question regarding Craw...Crowley, Aziraphale."

"And you’re avoiding mine. I think we're even."

Gabriel sighed in defeat.

To Aziraphale’s relief, Jeremy came into the room shortly after and was advised to deliver the letter and wait for the answer.

It was quite difficult to occupy himself with all the nervous anticipation bubbling up in him like champagne and to avoid Gabriel at the same time. He tried to read but couldn't concentrate and it was a relief when Jeremy finally came back, an answer in his pocket and reeking of cigarettes.

Aziraphale lit up, almost literally if you asked Mrs. Tracy. He kissed her cheek, told her that he would be out for the rest of the day and that his parents shouldn't worry. He even opted for the horse, making it a much shorter journey.

To not embarrass himself too much, Aziraphale did not ride the whole way to the little gardener's house, unmounting just a ways up the main drive and walking the rest of the way.

"Crowley? Dear, are you already here?" Aziraphale called out as he searched for a good spot to tie up his horse.

The voice punctured Crowley’s uneasy sleep. He sat up, quickly shrugging on a light coat as he pushed open the door.

"Aziraphale?" 

Crowley flinched from the light, holding his arm up. It was imperative he read Aziraphale’s features to know if he had found the letter or not and if he was happy about it or not. There were so many things to worry about. Crowley cleared his throat and tugged his hair into some semblance of order. "Uh. Hello!"

Aziraphale was already flushed from hurrying, even though he was already wearing light clothes today, but Crowley standing in the doorway of the shed, illuminated by the sun and his hair in an unruly state added more color to it.

He stared for a moment more, taking in the slender figure. Oh God help him, he wanted to be greeted with that sight every day.

“Hello.” Aziraphale smiled and took a step forward, stopping short before Crowley in the doorway. “Did you wait long? I...I left as soon as your answer arrived, but Lazarus here was a little pigheaded and I didn’t want to rush you if you were doing something this morning, though I think I still did if you were nappy and I... oh I’m babbling! Can I come in?”

Crowley folded his arms, only to unfold them and tug again, both on his coat and his hair. He smiled and bowed a little to let Aziraphale. He let Aziraphale into the house and carefully closed the door to show he wasn't rushing or being impatient. It wasn't even closed all the way before he turned to Aziraphale and cupped his cheek, kissing him swiftly before his nerves caught up and he stepped back, still unsure if that was allowed. 

"Sorry. Pigheaded? Uh...." Crowley smiled, laughing at himself softly. "Your horse?"

Aziraphale made a little content sound when he was kissed. His hands came up to take a hold of Crowley’s.

“Mhm? Oh, he didn’t want to get out of the stables at first. But I would not like to discuss the temper of my horse right now.”

Aziraphale closed the short distance, wrapping one arm around that slender waist to pull Crowley close and kiss him again, with much more vigor this time. His other hand was sliding in the soft locks. He only managed to break loose after a proper good snogging with the tiniest hint of regret to end it so soon. Maybe a little explanation was needed.

“I got your letter. Oh Crowley...”

Crowley relaxed visibly, sinking into Aziraphale's touch and wrapping him up with more purpose. 

"You did?" He pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closing in instant relief. "I couldn't find it earlier. I was so afraid I had lost it or maybe my brother stole it or something."

And then a new blush formed and he grazed Aziraphale's temple with his nose. 

"And, uh...what did you...think? Of my letter?"

"You dropped it in the library," Aziraphale answered first, and laughed when Crowley flinched.  _ The library! Of course! _ “No, I found it. After….”   
“After?”   
“Gabriel saw.”

Crowly groaned, like he might fall into the floorboards and down to the pits of hell just to escape his embarrassment.

But Aziraphale pulled him back up. He always did. Even now, basking in the soft sensations of their delicate contact. And then Aziraphale pulled back only to look him straight in the eyes, his own filled with so much open, earnest love that they could both feel it spilling over. If it were water, they might drown in it.

"I would follow you anywhere, Crowley. Anywhere I can. Even the stars. I don't want us to be apart ever again, my love, and I'm so sorry that I hurt you before."

His expression changes to something hurt, still feeling guilty.

"I wrapped my head around a solution. For us. There's nothing settled yet but... Maybe we don't have to go as far as the sky."

Crowley couldn't keep his hands off Aziraphale now, hearing "love" so tenderly. Even better, "my love."  _ My love. _ He was possessed and saved in Aziraphale's heart and he felt overwhelmed.

It seemed Aziraphale was overwhelmed as well. Crowley's face hurt from grinning, and he wiped just underneath Aziraphale's eye. 

Indeed, he'd go to the stars. He'd go further if it was with him.

But if Aziraphale had a plan....

"What solution? I'll do anything you need."

“I’ll come back to that later, I promise. Right now there are more pressing matters.”

Aziraphale kissed him again, a little less urgently now but with a purpose. Crowley curled his arms back around Aziraphale, dipping down to meet him. The urgent kiss was met with a noisey little nip.

“Oh. Sorry,” Azirpahale whispered, sucking his bottom lip in to taste Crowley a little more. “Unless you want to talk. Don’t think I’m forcing myself upon you. I-”

"Please,” Crowley whispered happily. “Force yourself upon me, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, a glint in his eyes before he turned back to kissing, pulling him closer. He started to nibble on Crowley’s bottom lip, licking over it tenderly after worrying it for quite some time. His hands were roaming over the long and sinew back, fingertips pressing in here and there. He could feel the heat under them, sleeping through the fabric. But it was not enough, he wanted more contact, wanted to feel this heat against his own.

“We can stay here or try to find a more comfortable place,” he said, a bit breathless.

It was very tempting to just strip off his coat and then make short work of Aziraphale's clothing, but Crowely steadied him, almost certainly reluctantly.

"Let me," Crowley started and moaned, chasing another quick kiss. "Hold on. Let me just."

Crowley smiled when he pulled away and went around the sturdy wooden table he had tended the clippings on. He grabbed a linen blanket he had folded up and shook it out quickly just in case before he snatched a basket underneath and held it up with a shaky grin.

"I, um. Well, I just... d'you want to walk with me? Into the woods. There's a clearing up on a hill. You can see much of the estate and I...I packed us a lunch. And. It's such a pretty day?" 

He was trying to be charming and felt himself falling short. The basket had a few good nibbles, mostly things he thought Aziraphale might like coupled with figs and apples. Their reunion like this should be more romantic, Crowley reasoned. More than a dusty cabin. 

"Nobody can see us there," Crowley added quietly, with a little heat. "Unless they're out hunting...."

Aziraphale blinked owlishly, his mind trying hard to process what was said to him through the haze of lust. When it finally clicked he sighed affectionately. Crowley was such a  _ romantic _ . Aziraphale could picture him rummaging around in the manor’s kitchen, planning everything out. He wanted this to be special, didn't he?

"Oh, darling. That sounds wonderful. I'd love to."

Aziraphale walked over and pecked him on the cheek, entwining their hands along the way. Crowley dropped his head and grinned bashfully, before he found his composure and stood up again.

_ Darling. _ Oh, the sound of it nearly laid Crowley out flat.

It didn't. He steadied himself and transferred the basket and the blanket to one arm, taking Aziraphale's hand and leading them back out, away from the cabin and into the woods around the Stabrbright's home.

It was a medium walk, a little ways away and up a gentle incline. Crowley smiled during the stroll, catching more confidence and speaking about little observations here and there and about last night at the party, what he had seen between Beatrice and Gabriel and teasing his cousin gently until they made it up the hill. By that point, they were talking very easily again, laughing, falling back into the rapport of their friendship before Crowley shook out the blanket and stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the grove of trees and the manor below them.

"Come. Here, it's quite comfortable," he said, offering his hand to help Aziraphale sit on the blanket with him.

It really was a lovely walk, the view from.their destination even better. Aziraphale took the offered hand, his heart fluttering at receiving such blatant contact out in the open. They could be seen like this and Aziraphale knew that he didn't care. Really, he would like to do this where everyone could see it, how happy they were.

He sat down, taking in the view and leaning towards Crowley. He was quiet for some time, just enjoying, until he broke the silence.

"I'm about to acquire a shop in London. I haven't heard back on that matter yet but I'm fairly certain that it'll be sealed in about a week..."

Crowley was eating an apple and gasped, choking on juice and coughing hard into his elbow. He spluttered, attempting to recover.

"In London?" he finally managed, grinning, still a gravelly groan and something sticky in the throat. Another cough and he was well again, if embarrassed. Aziraphale patted his back a little before he continued. "What kind of shop?"

"Ah you see...it's a bookshop. The owner is an acquaintance of my father who's health isn't the best anymore. He had no successor so...I saw an opportunity. I'll be taking his stock too and adding parts of my private collection."

He pulled a face at his last words but shook it off soon enough.

"I asked my father to be paid off my portion of the inheritance. It should be enough to get the shop, the flat above and still have some left over to live on for a time."

He fell into silence again, watching the Starbrights’ estate.

"There's room enough for two..."

Crowley tossed the apple away from the little sanctuary of the blanket, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale. 

"Room for two," he repeated. "And books. Sir, if you are in need of a roommate, I know of someone."

He almost kissed Aziraphale, but pulled back with a sharp smile. "You'll need to read to him when you get a chance. And he'll be scouring London for a job, if you're amenable. Or am I rushing to conclusions. I'm told I do that."

Aziraphale laughed brightly, mirroring Crowley in the embrace and leaning in, forehead against forehead.

"Oh I'm in dire need for one. It would be a tad too lonely in that big city without company. Don't you worry, you're on the right path with your conclusions. I think I should read to him every night, just checking the quality of the stock and everything…. If we wouldn't be occupied with other things, that is."

Aziraphale chuckled and closed his eyes. He could feel himself blushing at the thought of the two of them, living together without anyone who dictated who they should marry, what they should be doing.

Just the two of them.

"I don't want to be so dependent anymore. Even with our families on better terms now, they would push us into the direction they see fit again after some time. I don't want that anymore. I want to do whatever I love. With whoever I love as well."

"Please." 

Crowley slid his hands up Aziraphale's chest, sliding his legs around to frame Aziraphale's. He teetered on actually sitting, which meant he hovered. He wasn't weak, but he wasn't keeping up his best and his thighs shivered as he planted kisses all across those blushing cheeks.

"Hastur can take over Father's business. As planned. I'll see what I can collect and sell it to help. Cut my hair for a wig."

"Oh God gracious, no! There's no need for such dramatic actions."

Crowley was teasing and he laughed before he kissed Aziraphale back down to the blanket. 

"Maybe I'll open a flower shop," he whispered. "Books need flowers?"

"That sounds lovely. An odd combination but an unexpectedly good one. Like two people I know...."

Aziraphale brushed his nose against Crowley's sharp one, smiling contendly like the love drunken fool he was. He angled his head a little to kiss him then, long and soft.

"I love you Crowley."

Aziraphale only dared whisper it like a prayer, something too precious to be blurted out at the moment.

Crowley traced their noses along now that Aziraphale had started it, apparently not immune to the love-drunk foolishness that was spreading between them. Soon there should be garlands and hearts to show the infectious affection.

"Angel," Crowley whispered back. He tilted enough only to take his glasses off and toss them on the corner of the blanket nearby, his eyes closed to the sunlight but still much closer, much easier to open them when they were inches apart. "Aziraphale," he amended, holding the name as sacredly as his angel gave it to him. "Please. Tell me again, please."

How could he not tell Crowley, a hundred...no, a thousand times again and again? Aziraphale took a gentle hold of Crowley’s face, tilting it just so that he could kiss his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his eyes, the wonderful cheekbones. Every kiss followed with a deceleration of his love.

_ I love you. I love you. I'll never stop telling you _

He wanted to let it sink into Crowley’s skin, sealed there so he always would know. Know that he adored every part, every crooked angle and every speck of dust that comprised of Crowley. 

Aziraphale had promised to worship him last night and he would be damned if he couldn't keep to it. The kisses went father down, becoming affectionate bites along his jaw.

Crowley was quickly laying atop him, giggling towards the treeline as Aziraphale nipped his neck. He idly plucked at Aziraphale's shirt to slip his hands beneath and simply place his hands on warm skin.

"Darling, darling love," Crowley answered, absolutely giddy. He wasn't sure he had ever felt so affectionate before, even at the little tickle on his throat that caused him to curl in and return a volley of his own. It seemed only fair, sharing this measure for measure and touch for touch.

Aziraphale made a sound between a gasp and a huff of laughter at the contact but melted into it a second later. To hear such sweet and affectionate pet names from Crowley were unfamiliar but welcome and made Aziraphale blush down to his neck.

He tugged at Crowley’s collar to get more access to that delectable long neck. Crowley tasted salty and a little spicy; this was nearly better than french pastries. Aziraphale kept on biting along the taut muscle down to the juncture of neck and shoulder where he let his teeth sink in a little deeper, just to lick soothingly over the worried flesh a moment later.

The momentarily unoccupied hand found its way from Crowley’s back down to one very well formed buttock and squeezed experimentally. Heavens! It fit so perfectly in his hand, like someone had sculpted it for that exact reason.

There was no way Crowley could keep himself propped up after that, as much as he wanted. He melted against Aziraphale and would have spilled off him completely if he wasn't holding Crowley in place.

It was surprisingly difficult to lift his head, only because he felt wire tight and kept twitching at Aziraphale's hand finding new places on him to hold. It wasn't long before he was simply panting. With one particularly good bite, Crowley just moaned and shifted his hips, a teasing friction for them that he chased with another accidental thrust. 

And every time Aziraphale cupped, giving him a nice squeeze? Crowley was compelled to arch his back, to fill out against Aziraphale's palm. Surely there wasn't much but it really did feel like it was a perfect fit. 

"Can...?" Crowley didn't know how to finish that, actually.  _ Can he lay down on the ground? Can he remove Aziraphale's clothes? Can he bury himself in Aziraphale's chest.  _

The ask was muffled against Aziraphale's neck, hiding there to luxuriate in the very recent memory of Aziraphale biting him."

“Mmm? What was that?“

The friction between them was a sweet torture and Aziraphale craved more of it. He wanted to kiss every inch of skin, including the very hard thrust of flesh that was pressing against his own need. They were finally alone, no one there to interrupt and there were so, so many possibilities of what they could do. It was hard to focus on any at all. 

“What do you want?” Aziraphale asked, barely above a whisper. They were so close, it was almost like they didn’t need words at all. But he needed to hear it from Crowley. To know precisely what he wanted. “Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

Crowley whined a little more before he sat up, his hands still firmly beneath Aziraphale's shirt and wandering up his bare skin. Crowley's hands felt like they would burn right through him.

"It isn't fair," he answered. 

Yes, his eyebrows were forked together in frustration, but Crowley was clearly smiling and his cheeks were ruddy, only more so as he scooted up to seat himself even more firmly on Aziraphale's thighs. 

"You fluster me so much it's like I'm a golem whose mind has been wiped clean. I. I want you to bite my neck, it feels so bloody good," he moaned and his eyes fluttering shut before he pouted again. "But then I'm a useless puddle. I want to please you and I'm...I'm just...I'm helplessssss."

Aziraphale chuckled about the complain. My, he hadn't heard that before. Others were quite eager to get pleased and he had no problem at all to be the one giving that service, but Crowley seemed to think that he would be at a disadvantage here.

"Well, seems like I'm doing it right then." Aziraphale chuckled and stroked Crowley's back soothingly. "Listen, I don't expect anything and I remember vividly that you're a quick study. We're in this together. I'm learning what you like along the way as well. I may know some... _ techniques, _ but everyone is different. How about this, hmm? If you're so eager to please me, I'm all yours now. You can do what you like and I'll tell you if it needs some adjustment."

Aziraphale smiled up at him in hopes that it was reassuring enough.

"And after that I'll keep on reducing you to a useless puddle, as you said. If you still want me to do that. I just want this to be the most enjoyable for you, love."

Crowley covered his eyes with his hands for a second, shaking with quiet laughter. He pushed back his red curls and came in for a soft, lingering kiss at his gratitude. Trust this scrumptious man to be patient with him. 

It put Crowley's nerves at ease, well enough that he rucked up Aziraphale's shirt further and eventually managed to get it bunched around his chest. He cupped Aziraphale's pecs, massaging them with a little awe, and buried his face there while his hands roamed like a blind man reading a map.

Those hands were quickly replaced with his lips, and he took a chance at sucking one of Aziraphale's nipples. He continued his hands' journey down towards his hips and squeezed them too.

Oh, that was something he hadn't experienced before. Aziraphale watched, a little stunned how Crowley's face hid in his chest like it was a maid's bosom. It wasn't bad at all, just unexpected.

Before Aziraphale could dwell on that thought longer, his mind was swiped by the sensation of a very hot tongue against his nipple. Oh Lord, that was something else entirely. He bucked up with a gasp that became a moan, pressing his chest into the searing contact. That lovely sound was music, pure and simple. Crowley nibbled a little more and kissed lazily over to the other one, giving it the same attention. One hand came up to hold Crowley's head there, tugging at his hair just for purchase.

Oh he wanted that mouth  _ everywhere _

As soon as there would be an opportunity, they would get rid of the shirt completely.

Crowley was good with clothes. He enjoyed clothes. He loved the cut of them and the way you can hide pockets and make severe lines with a stitch and nice fabric. He liked clasps. Buttons. Ties. He showed his appreciation of  _ good fabric _ by rubbing the front of Aziraphale's slacks. He split his fingers evenly around Aziraphale's want, so hot and attentive under his fingers.

And, of course, he kissed. Lord, he kissed. He kissed, he sucked, he licked, he nibbled, he breathed upon and closed his lips down and pressed and kissed and kissed and kissed.

There really was no need for Crowley to feel like he was too inexperienced. Aziraphale couldn't remember if he'd ever been seen to so thoroughly. This was so different to the times he had indulged in his carnal desires. This was filled with the knowledge of being loved and wanted, as a whole.

Aziraphale bit his lip at the thought and it only added to that burning desire to be touched and kissed and getting  _ more _ .

"Ah...Crowley…. Please, I...."

Aziraphale bucked his hips, hoping that his message came across and he would be freed from his confined slacks. Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale thrusting against his hand. He gasped playfully and grinned, rubbing his forehead to Aziraphale's belly.

"Aziraphale," he answered in the same tone. "Oh, you asked so nicely, how can I say no, hmm?"

Crowley settled directly between Aziraphale’s legs and watched him, beginning to undo the front of his trousers. He got it halfway done before he pressed down and outlined Aziraphale with his mouth. The slightly rough cotton wasn't exactly kind to the sensitive skin directly beneath his nose, but it didn't stop him in the slightest, just nuzzling in. 

"Angel?" he asked, his voice changing to genuinely questioning. "Can I try...um." 

He opened Aziraphale's pants the rest of the way and carefully pulled him out, a reverence again for a chance to finally properly see him in the daylight. 

"Um, can I...taste you?"

It really shouldn't have that effect on him. Aziraphale had thought about this ever since they had pleasured each other on that evening, but he was flustered to no extent nonetheless. 

Aziraphale watched Crowley nuzzling and had to avert his gaze as soon as he had asked. He didn't think it was possible to blush any further but his cheeks practically glowed. He inhaled sharply when the air grazed the sensitive and overheated skin.

"Oh God, Crowley,  _ please. _ Help yourself."

Crowley didn't really read up on the subject, nor did he have personal experience, but Aziraphale's reaction alone helped him feel comfortable enough to give it a try. Crowley wetted his lips first, staring up to watch Aziraphale, the way he squirmed and breathed, highlighted in the crisp clear sunlight. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it firmly to the length, dragging it up, and pulled back to ruminate on the taste. The salt wasn't so shocking, a little richer flavor than that. He hummed and tried again, focusing more on wetting the gland, the slight friction of his lips on the shaft, and hummed directly when he pulled Aziraphale experimentally into his mouth.

Aziraphale tried hard to look at Crowley doing this, he really did. He watched that tongue darting out in slow motion but the sensation was so overwhelming that his eyes screwed shut and his head fell back onto the blanket. The mixture of wet heat and vibration made him keen and he clenched his fist in Crowley’s hair and the other in the blanket, so he wouldn’t push his hips up.

He was almost sure that people back in the manor heard him. He didn’t care.

“Amazing. You’re amazing. K-keep that up.”

That stirring heat and affection went molten hot through Crowley. Aziraphale did  _ that. _ And  _ he _ did that to Aziraphale. A point of pride, for certain. Happiness and desire too.

Crowley wanted to milk every delight out of him.

The tight grip on his hair was nothing short of a bonus, something to mix a sweet pain to the pleasure of his performance. He'd ask Aziraphale to pull harder if his mouth wasn't full.

Crowley began to sink down, again dragging it out, savoring it as the treat it was. Generally he did not have much issue with something in his mouth, though testing that had not been presented so thoroughly as it was when he crawled his lips fully down and Aziraphale's cock nudged the back of his throat. 

Crowley swallowed on instinct and only made a strange snort at the sensation before he pulled back up and kissed the tip. It wasn't very long to repeat himself this time, with more vigor than the first, down then up and down again, finding something of a rhythm.

Aziraphale felt like he was  _ devoured _ and he didn’t mind at all. This was the first time that someone go that deep and it felt incredible. 

His self restraint was gone when Crowley sank down a second time, so he naturally met the motion with his hips. Not too harsh, he wasn’t able to do that in his state anyways.

This did not only feel sinful, it looked like it would save you a seat in the seven circles of hell. The bobbing of Crowley’s head, the stretch of his red lips. And the sounds, oh Lord forgive him, the  _ sounds _ ! 

Aziraphale felt a searing knot building in his abdomen and he tried to come to terms with the options here. He could let Crowley finish, which would be a whole other level of a sinful view, with a fair warning of course. But he could also suggest what he had in mind when he rushed to meet his lover earlier today. Yes, of course, declarations of love had been on his mind, but Crowley’s body had crept up into his thoughts while he was riding over.

Aziraphale tugged more on Crowley’s hair, this time with a purpose. When this didn’t have the effect he hoped for, he managed to speak again, beside all the panting.

“Dear, I’m...if you keep that up, I won’t last...”

Crowley pulled off with less a controlled pop and more a messy gasp, with a thin trail of saliva from his lips to the tip of Aziraphale.

"Whuh?" It was less dignified than anything, but he quickly nuzzled Aziraphale's hand. He assumed he had done it wrong and would do his best to amend. "Sorry. Too rough? I can try more tongue." 

Aziraphale simply groaned. The sight and the suggestion of more tongue! He wanted to kill him!    
With nothing short of a miracle, it seemed, Aziraphale was able to start his reawaken his brain. 

“No! No, you’re too good at this! If you keep that up, I’m not going to last. You...can finish this like that if you like, I won’t protest, but I...er...I also had another idea and….”

Oh really, now he felt embarrassed? Crowley had swallowed him like one of those people at the fair, those fellows with the swords and now he couldn’t bring his idea up at all? Who was the blushing ‘virgin’ here?

"Another idea?" Crowley grinned, distracted only long enough to kiss Aziraphale's thigh before he sat up. "What idea? Hmm? If it's more hair pulling I am...very agreeable to such ideas." 

Crowley trapped Aziraphale again between his legs and held his cheeks while he kissed him. Tasting himself on Crowley’s skillful tongue was so wonderfully filthy. They had joked about it once, a long time ago, but Aziraphale was certain now that he would have never been a good priest at all.

“Mhhh...I’ll take note of that. So...you know I thought we would do this back in the house. I don’t know if it’s even a good idea to bring it up. But...I….” He was drawing patterns on Crowley’s exposed collarbones. The fact that Crowley was still fully clothed was nearly too much! “I thought I might show you some, er...Greek classics. It involves oil though.”

"Oil," Crowley repeated, mouthing  _ Greek classic, _ to himself twice. "Oh!"

Crowley hummed and pecked Aziraphale once more, stretching over to the picnic basket. He rummaged through it, with the bread and cheese, apples, the hard dried salami, and the little jar of salt and spices. He knocked his fist onto the small ornate bottle of olive oil he had brought for the bread, pulling it up and presenting it before he held it tight to his chest. 

"Did you, um. Did you want to return to the Gardener’s cabin?" He winced. "No, that sounds awful. Of course I should invite you into the house, yes? Come see my room? I think only Mother is inside. Maybe Hastur. Beatrice and Uncle Jean went into town. Father is...I bet he’s in the study. Maybe. They should be good."

He was babbling as he tried to reason how best to get Aziraphale to his room without anyone bothering them. Not that he was embarrassed or worried, but he didn't want their harassment to ruin their time together and realized slowly it made him somewhat a coward not to ignore those concerns and get Aziraphale somewhere comfortable, instead of out here, in the open, under the naked sky. 

"Not that any of them matter. Of course. Of course, Aziraphale, come with me, zip you back in, I'll show you my room! I...."

Aziraphale propped himself up on one elbow and watched how Crowley brought himself up into a nervous frenzy. That was the last thing he wanted now. Everything had been heavenly until now. It was so typical for Azirphale to ruin it with a stupid comment about a specific way of love-making.

He reached out and took a gentle hold of Crowley’s arm.

“Crowley, darling, first of all, I love it here. This is the most romantic place I’ve ever seen and most importantly we’re alone here. Thank you for showing me.” 

Aziraphale sat up more and brought one of Crowley’s slender hands to his mouth, brushing over the knuckles with his lips.

“Second, only because I made plans at home doesn’t mean we have to see them through. You planned this, obviously! I only mentioned a normal bedroom because this gets quite...messy. We could always sacrifice the blanket though.” Aziraphale chuckled.

“And last, You decide what  _ you _ want right now. I’m happy with whatever you choose, since I’ll be doing it with you.”

He leaned forward and kissed Crowley chastely, brushing their noses together.

“I guess I was a little bit too eager, I’m sorry. I...even packed my own oil. It doesn’t have such a strong scent. And the thing I wanted to try is nothing...penetrative. All you need are thighs and...well.”

If humans could purr, surely Crowley would have done so. He stared at Aziraphale, his breath quickening when he kissed his knuckles.

"You packed some?" Crowley finally whispered, grinning. "For...thighs?" Crowley pulled his hand back to kiss Aziraphale properly. "Damn the blanket. I want to see what you have in mind."

Oh, that went better than expected.

“First of all, you’re overdressed.”

Aziraphale leaned forward and undid the buttons on Crowley’s vest swiftly. After that, he tugged his shirt out of the others breeches and got rid of it in a smooth move. Aziraphale sat back then, marveling at the sight of Crowley’s bare chest before him. He was so thin and slightly muscular, so very different to Aziraphale’s own soft...plushness, one might say. He let his hands wander over the hot porcelain-like skin, following every line and muscle.

“Oh Crowley...you look like something Michelangelo sculpted with his own hands.”

He leaned in, planting kisses from Crowley’s throat down over his collarbones. It was Aziraphale’s turn to nibble, to tease, to wander over one of the lovely pink nipples while his hands roamed over a taut stomach and abdomen.

It was frankly too easy to see where he blushed. Crowley meant to ignore the sensibilities of the age and get sun just to make himself less appealing to potential suitors, but he was naturally drawn to the dark and when he was sick, it wicked away the last of his tan. But now? Now it was red, blossoming under every bit of Aziraphale's touch. 

When Aziraphale pulled back, Crowley pounced, helping him remove his upper garments completely, so they were somewhat fair.

"Explain yourself," he whispered hotly into Aziraphale's ear, licking the outer shell and biting the cartilage. “The oil. ‘Greek classics.’ Explain. Now.”

Aziraphale pressed himself along the lithe body, shuddering from the ticklish sensation on his ear.

“Ah...we have to be stripped down completely. Then one of us will be oiled up like a marinated feast while the other has the pleasure to fuck his thighs.”

This explanation missed any true eloquence, but Azirphale couldn’t be bothered right now.

"Good, I started on your trousers," Crowley said, hiding his bright red face against Aziraphale's shoulder. "Just need to finish the job." He smiled again and stayed near him, whispering again. " _ Slip off your shoes. _ "

Aziraphale chuckled and cursed right after since he had decided to ride here and was wearing boots. Of course, Crowley had been teasing about the boots and would have gladly helped him, but Aziraphale's speed and pushiness was endearing. After some aggressive pushing, they came right off and Aziraphale canted his hips to get a better angle to slip the slacks down, tossing them somewhere. He immediately took Crowley’s shoes off, so he could slip out as well.

While Crowley could get naked on his own, Aziraphale searched for his coat, producing a vial with a golden hue.

"Okay, so. Your oil looks much fancier than mine." Crowley laughed, kneeling naked on the blanket.

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks to marvel at the sight of a completely naked Crowley. No more barriers whatsoever. He was even better than a Michelangelo. And quite better equipped.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to pounce, slinging his arms around that marvelous creature that was his lover and kissing him so hard that he managed to knock them over. They nearly bit each other’s lips hard enough to bruise. Aziraphale laughed into the kiss and pulled back just a little to speak.

“So...would you rather be the one receiving or giving?”

Crowley laughed brightly, checking his lip idly to see if it was bleeding. He continued laughing as he pet Aziraphale's hair.

"Receiving? Are you going to...or am I going to?" 

His eyes were crinkled with mirth, but he blushed again. Aziraphale had explained it wasn't penetration, but his mind still tripped there for a moment. "Would you like it if I did...if I did that for you? To you? Sorry." 

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, lost in laughter for a moment.

“Well, since I already tumbled over you....I would actually like that.”

Aziraphale sat back and settled between Crowley’s thighs, admiring the view for a moment beforehand. After a breathless moment and just before Crowley’s nerves caught up to him to make him squirm, Aziraphale popped the cork of the vial open and poured some of the oil onto his hands. He rubbed them together to warm it a little before he reached for Crowley’s member, giving it a good firm stroke from base to tip and twisting his fist just a little at the head.   
Crowley placed hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, doing his best not to grip because it would not be a grip, it would be a claw, nails digging into soft beautiful flesh and that wouldn't do. It wouldn't do to move, to breathe either. 

Aziraphale administered the oil several times, getting Crowley slicked up before he knelt over him again, placing his arms on either side of Crowley’s head. Poor Crowley stared up at him, his mouth hanging open when Aziraphale stroked him and hadn't figured out how to close it either.

“Is that okay?” Aziraphale whispered, only for Crowley to bob his head emphatically and finally whisper a breathy, “yes.” Aziraphale nodded, grinning at him, and poured some oil between his thighs to boot. “Good. Just a moment, we’ll shift a little, alright?”

Another useless little bob, but enough that Aziraphale knew it was alright. He adjusted Crowley, tilting them both, before he was angled well enough to press his cock right between Aziraphale’s plush thighs. Aziraphale squeezed down with that first slick thrust, trapping Crowley for a moment. He rolled his hips once, slow and steady and with a shaky breath, feeling the slide between himself. Crowley moaned, an incidental sound, just slippery vowels.

"Oh, that is...that is lovely," Crowley whispered and blushed hard.  _ Lovely _ . He sounded stupid. 

Then again, it didn't matter to sound suave and put together now, did it? It mattered to be in love. 

Crowley attempted to move up to meet Aziraphale, pressing into those slick thighs. He stretched up and kissed him, moaning again, biting his bottom lip so he would press in as well, join together at their lips or tongue or cheek as well as their groins. 

Aziraphale had such wonderfully thick thighs that Crowley couldn't see the head pop out just underneath that plump buttocks but only on very enthusiastic thrusts. He had to arch his hips hard and earned a little peak of his cock that disappeared so quickly. His hands had dropped to the ground to help him thrust up, but he wanted to grab Aziraphale. His hips. His shoulders, his hair, his supple chest, his erection, anything. Everything.

Aziraphale was a panting mess himself, savoring every push and pull on his skin and the wonderfully obscene sound their joined bodies were making. He twisted to place sloppy kisses along Crowley’s jaw and up to his ear, panting right into it.

"You feel divine. Oh _God_ , Crowley, so good. You’re so good for me."

Aziraphale rolled his hips purposefully to meet Crowley's thrust. His own straining erection was trapped between them, making a mess of them both. He could feel the hot stickiness with every move and it was marvelous.

The whole ordeal was. Being so close, taking the other in so completely and still not enough.

Aziraphale wanted this to last forever but he also carved to see Crowley come undone, because of him. He remembered the request from before and dug both his hands into his hair, fingers grazing his skull and pulling the red locks harder.

Crowley's response was as undignified as ever, more carnal and guttural than he thought possible. He immediately dropped his chin to his chest to hide the punch of a moan that came from the bottom of his guts. He did not think this could be so primal, that satisfaction with the edge of something more. And the sting across his scalp only divided his attention, creating goosebumps to flash across his skin. He gripped the blanket tighter, grit his teeth even, and continued to thrust up until he seemed to unspool and fall into a white hot light.

Crowley would have snapped his head back to shout his orgasm if Aziraphale hadn't gripped his hair so perfectly. Instead, it was a shocked choke of nothing, his mouth open to answer or announce but coming up short. Noises were not his expertise. He didn't speak well when lavished with attention such as this and he certainly didn't announce himself with any semblance of a sound, save for the deep, wonderful moans that were carved out of him. 

The sheer bliss on Crowley’s face when he tumbled over the edge was so beautiful, Aziraphale wanted to see it, feel it for the rest of his feeble existence. The way the body underneath stiffened, muscles flexing until he could feel the warm pulses between his thighs, spilling over them. Aziraphale moved his hips slowly, riding the orgasm out for Crowley until he stilled his hips himself while his cock pumped between Aziraphale's warm, thick thighs. 

Very quickly after, Crowley was a limp mass, leaning his head forward and forcing Aziraphale's fingers through his hair so he could press his forehead to Aziraphale's neck, panting to catch his breath. Aziraphale started to kiss the long neck presented to him, little reassuring brushes while his hands stayed in the red hair, keeping a firm grip. 

And, idly, wandering like a snake between them, Crowley managed to lift a hand up and work it between them so he could fist Aziraphale's cock against his stomach.

“You did so well, Crowley. It felt so  _ gnnh _ ..”

He wanted to praise him, tell him what a good boy he’d been, but the hand on his own aching cock was too distracting. He had forgotten how close he’d been himself, so it was no surprise that Aziraphale didn’t last long.

His voice pitched higher, little keening noises while he tried his best to thrust against those long fingers around him. When he spilled over Crowley’s hand and both their stomachs, he buried his face in Crowley’s neck as well, forcing them both back hard onto the blanket, panting and just basking in the afterglow.

When he felt himself going too slack, Aziraphale slumped to the side, arms still wrapped around Crowley. He didn’t want to bury the redhead under his whole weight. He didn’t know how long it took him to speak again; time was an absurd concept right now. But, eventually, he found something to say while he felt the evidence of their activities cooling.

“That was...huh...”

"Huh," Crowley repeated, wrapped lazily around Aziraphale, arms entwined between them and legs making a haphazard weave together. His eyes were closed and one of their jackets was being used as an impromptu pillow. Crowley shivered with their bodies rapidly cooling and snuggled in tighter to steal Aziraphale's warmth. He smiled at the softness of him, the wonderful expanse of him to hold onto. 

"Greeks," he finally managed.

Aziraphale’s body shook while he giggled happily. He grabbed the blanket and tried to cover as much of them as possible, wrapping them in a little cocoon. 

“I always admired the classics. Are you all right?”

"Oh, that's much better," Crowley whispered and laughed too, struggling to bring his hands up to cup Aziraphale's face. "Sorry, no, I meant. That was wonderful. All of that was  _ wonderful. _ I was...." 

He laughed at himself and bumped their foreheads together. 

"Sorry. I was getting cold," he admitted lamely.

“So I have to hold you a little closer im afraid, we can’t have you fall sick again.” 

Crowley traced Aziraphale's cheek with his thumb and hummed again, merely breathing in the close warmth and incidental scent of their lovemaking now coiled so perfectly around them. In the moment, in the euphoric afterglow, he did not really mind. 

"What about for you?" he asked suddenly, like he had forgotten. "Was that...did you like...was that good?"

Aziraphale had closed his eyes and just enjoyed the closeness and tangle of limbs. They couldn’t lay here too long, Crowley’s health was a real concern and Aziraphale didn’t want to see him so helpless again. But for now it was alright to just breath him in and smile like a complete lunatic.

“Dearest, I made a mess between us the whole time. It was wonderful. You are wonderful and I would do it again and again and...” He trailed off, kissing Crowley’s nose and cheeks while pulling him impossibly closer. “It’s a shame you couldn’t see yourself while you sullied my thighs. You were a vision.”

It felt warmer much faster as Crowley blushed against Aziraphale. 

"Pure flattery," he mused, grinning back at him, into him.

“Credit where credit is due, dear.”

The ease with which Aziraphale shared compliments helped Crowley relax. He still had trepidations that Aziraphale would realize what a pathetic creature he was, how inexperienced he was, but it seemed being a fast study had it's advantages.

"We could go swim in the pond to clean ourselves off," he offered quietly, even if he made no move to prove he was ready to do as such.

“That’s a marvelous idea.” Truthfully, they could not ignore the unpleasant stickiness between them forever. “Just...in a moment. I want to hold you a little longer.”

Aziraphale snuggled closer and kissed him. The utter freedom of just doing so was a delight, something he didn’t want to miss. Oh, he couldn’t wait to get that shop in London, to share a home with Crowley. Their own little refuge. 

Something different crossed his mind now, lazing so close together and Aziraphale could feel the color blooming in his cheeks.

“Uhm...Crowley?”

“Mm?” 

“I hope that, while we were occupied moments ago, that I wasn’t too...erm...heavy.”

He muffled the last word. Aziraphale was well aware that he was the complete opposite of Crowley’s long and sinewy corporation and he while he felt quite good in his own skin in general terms, this occasional self-consciousness cropped up now and again. Oh, love did strange things to one’s mind.

"Heavy?" 

Crowley's head felt warm and satiated. Did Aziraphale want him to pull together a cohesive thought, when he was being embraced, post coitus, in the shade of a blanket and the arms of his lover and on a grassy hill in the sunlight? He would do better to start expounding on complex mathematical theorems. 

"You're wonderfully heavy," Crowley answered, thinking that was the correct answer. He squeezed Aziraphale's middle and rolled up to meet him, every stretch of skin he could find. The movement spurned him on and soon he was planting wet, wanting kisses wherever he could reach, whispering in the sanctity afforded between them.

"I need to explore every inch of this and I should think it will take me a lifetime to properly adore and catalogue and love the entirety of you. But...too heavy?  _ Too  _ heavy? That sounds close to like you think you're poorly designed and let me tell you, Angel, you are perfection."

“How is it possible that I deserve you...?” he asked with a small chuckle, but the question was genuine. Sure, he had always dreamed of that, someone who would love him for what he was, with all his quirks and stuffiness. But to actually  _ have _ that now was...well, better than he could have ever imagined and utterly mortifying at the same time. 

“I feel the need to ask the same,” Crowley muttered while gently worming their bodies together.

Aziraphale’s heart was swelling with the sheer love that Crowley was radiating and the prospect to feel this for the rest of their lives. 

“Mmm…. So. A lifetime, mh? Sounds barely enough for me, personally.”

He gently brought Crowley up again, so he could look in those honey-bright eyes. 

“I love you, Crowley. And I’m more than happy to spend the rest of this lifetime with you.”

Crowley had meant to be teasing him, not in any emotional or cruel sense, but physically. And not because of his weight or his size or anything so trivial as that, but he had meant to excite him. He was giggling and grinding their messy stomachs together and he even managed to graze his flaccid cock against Aizraphale's. It was  _ meant _ to be  _ exciting _ and a little daring and mostly annoying, but in the most general, gentle, loving sense.

He did not mean to gasp.

He did not mean to freeze, to stare into those soft, trusting eyes. To blush so hard it felt like he should be crying just to relieve some of the pressure and heat in his cheeks.

Now, he meant to kiss him. That, surely, truly, went off exactly as planned.

"I get sick. A lot," Crowley said quickly, their mouths so close so he could pour his secrets into Aziraphale without breaking away. "Not as bad as my mother, generally, but I suppose it happens when I get cold. I get cold. I get cold a lot and I get sick when I eat dairy and I have trouble reading in the dark and I sleep. I sleep whenever I get the chance because sleep is so lovely. Sometimes I antagonize ducks. Sometimes I also antagonize the nuns whenever my mother and father drag me to church, which is so boring I can't think to sit still; it makes me antsy and I have a burning guilt from that that I cannot explain and do not want to think of. I have stolen several trinkets from different parties because nobody has ever noticed and I find it fun. Sometimes I also antagonize goats, but they started it, I swear. The horses hate me, I don't know why, and I haven't antagonized them once, but maybe I have. I think I snore; my brother told me, I don't know. I'm particularly vain about my hair but if you really did want me to change it, I think I would for you. I'm afraid I'm going blind. I didn't tell anyone but I am telling you because-" 

Crowley struggled to take a breath during his frenzied confessions, as though some part of him hoped to steer Aziraphale away from him.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s arm the whole time to keep him warm and talking. He listened carefully and fought with a lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the trust he was granted. He perked up at some points, had to stifle a laugh about the antagonizing of animals and prayed that he would be able to experience all of this. The only time his face showed concern was at the mention of blindness.

“Breathe, dear. Breathe. There’s a good boy, slowly. 

“Now.Before you think that I would be repelled by anything of that, I’m not. I fear I never will; I’m too far gone. But you wanted to tell me about your fear of blindness because of...?”

He took Crowley’s face in his hands to assure that he wouldn’t squirm his way out of this.

"All your books," Crowley whispered, shaking a little. At least it was from nerves and not the cold. Aziraphale kept him so warm. "I won't be able to read all the wonderful books. What if...." Damn him if he started crying. He decided to breathe, as suggested by Aziraphale. "What if you hate me? When I'm just a nuisance?"

How was one human being able to make his heart flutter with joy and break it on his behalf in such a short time?

Aziraphale brushed the fresh tears away with his thumbs and leaning in to kiss the rest of the salty remains. 

“I will never hate you and I can’t imagine that you’ll ever be such a nuisance that I would abandon you. Perhaps I want a nuisance. Oh Crowley, how could I leave you, hmm? We’ll figure it out together, can’t you see? And I love to read to you. If your fears ever come to be true, I’ll lend you my sight I...” He took an unsteady breath himself. “You won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid. Don’t you dare think about that, not now that I finally made up my own mind. One of my more annoying trades is that I might be slow at decisions but when I am settled on something? There’s nothing Heaven nor Hell could do to bring me off it. And I settled on staying with you as long as you’ll have me. Do you understand?”

Crowley laughed again, soft and watery, and nodded against Aziraphale.

"Heaven and Hell can't bring you off, but at least I can," he offered as a hasty and crude joke. He quickly wrapped his arms around Aziraphale. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me."

He was smiling as he kissed Aziraphale gently, repeatedly. Aziraphale only snorted before his mouth was occupied with something far more interesting than simple laughter.


	9. Offering a Proposal

They managed to clean themselves as good as they could with nothing but the blanket before Aziraphale and Crowley gathered up their clothes and streaked down for that pond. The ducks must have remembered Crowley, because some of them were on a quacking retreat as soon as they got there. It amused Aziraphale to no end.

The water was cool but not unpleasant and Aziraphale insisted to help Crowley with the cleaning. It was a weak excuse to keep touching him, but he didn’t need or want for better ones.

And then, afterwards, Aziraphale insisted they get dressed as fast as possible, so Crowley wouldn’t get too cold. 

“You know, something you told me earlier got me thinking. You said you stole some things from parties and such and I couldn’t help but to think of a crow. I already made that connection quite early, just after our first meeting, actually. That’s why I got myself a crow’s feather, as a...reminder of you. I keep it in whichever book I’m reading, you know. Quite the silly, romantic thing to do. I suppose.”

Crowley was sitting in the grass far away from the water on Aziraphale's insistence and braiding up his hair. It would be a wild curly mess tomorrow because of it. He paused, glancing up, a little extra quirk of a smile. Since they had gotten up, he had replaced the sunglasses and the coat and vest. He was sitting cross-legged, his fingers working deftly through the damp locks. 

"You have...as a reminder of me?" Crowley finished tying his hair and patted his chest until he worked his way down and fetched the ribbon he had stuffed into the slim pocket of his vest, going back to tying a neat bow at the end. Aziraphale admired Crowley’s work with his hair. It was so lovely to watch those finger work. "That's so sweet of you. I didn't even think of stealing anything from you! And I was in your house. Twice!" He pouted at himself. "So many opportunities...."

“I have a feeling it would have been a book and I can assure you that you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to leave with it. Got a sixth sense when it’s about books.”

Aziraphale sat down beside Crowley and struggled with his boot.

“You know. People say that crows are bad omens? Harbingers of misfortune and such. But if you take some time to watch them, you’ll notice that they’re awfully clever and playful. I think that applies to you as well. And I’m glad that I’m allowed to see so many aspects of you.”

Aziraphale leaned in to peck his cheek. This day had been nothing but wonderful, even with the small emotional hiccups. However, the sun sank further and further and Aziraphale didn’t want anyone to get after him. He sighed, taking one of Crowley’s hands, entwining their fingers.

“I don’t want to go home. What I want is to spend the rest of this day with you, the rest of the night as well and to just fall asleep beside you. Is that too selfish of me?”

Crowley looked down at their hands and rubbed his thumb idly over Aziraphale's knuckles.

"I think what we really need is to get you up to my room," he answered carefully. "Because I think it would be quite dangerous to send you home so late at night."

Of course it wasn't even dusk yet, but the sun was indeed working it's way down and, perhaps in a few short hours it would be dark out.

“Mhh...you’ve got a fair point there. I fear that my family would worry though.” 

He thought of the way Tracy had looked at him when he was pacing around earlier, knowing what was going on. She would come up with something, the dear heart.

“Actually!”   
“Actually?” Crowley repeated, feeling hopeful again.

“Yes, actually, they would be even more worried if I had to ride through the darkness. And Lazarus is stubborn at times. Oh...that reminds me, what are we doing with him?”

It was already settled, Aziraphle was going to spend the night with Crowley and if that meant that Lazarus would have to stay at the shed, then so be it.

“We could always say that we met out here while I was er...enjoying nature and all and we forgot the time. It would only be polite to invite me in after the successful dinner.”

"I'll have Shadwell bring Lazarus up to the barn," Crowley explained, holding Aziraphale's hand a little tighter at the plan he had hatched. "Couldn't get me near him. I'm sure he's lovely. Pigheaded...no, I'm sure he's lovely," he repeated. "We'll...hmm. We'll send a note to your house. Perhaps Newt should run it. Shadwell's got that bad back and all."

He popped up a little and rounded on Aziraphale. "The stairs. Through the servants’ quarters! That's how I get up. We could sneak up there. You wouldn't have a problem with that, would you?"

Aziraphale wiggled with anticipation and clapped his hands.

“Oh no, that’s how I got to you in the first place when I visited your sickbed. It’s settled then!“ He stood up and fetched the rest of their sundries. “Oh it’s like we’re in one of those ribald novels….”

While Aziraphale was giddy and all, Crowley stayed on the ground, looking a little confused and, if he was honest, embarrassed.

"I don't remember you visiting, actually," he admitted quietly.

“Oh.” Aziraphale paused, kneeling down to caress Crowley’s soft cheek again. “You were quite feverish when I came along. Don’t fret, I was worried and needed to see you. I helped clean you and even got you to drink that medicine. To be true, I was so worried that you would send me away, after that night before...but you didn’t. Let me assure you, if you fall sick again, I’ll be there to pamper you myself.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that.”

“I bet you do,” Aziraphale mused, his face scrunching with amusement. “And now stand up, we should head back, love.”

Crowley stood and helped Aziraphale carry items so he might be free to take the lead for Lazarus, maintaining a safe distance.

"Trust me, it's for all our sakes."

As they returned to the barn, Crowley hummed again and turned to walk backwards. "What about you?"

“Mhhh? What do you mean?”

It was hard to suppress the use of any endearments around Crowley but it wouldn’t be wise to drop that around the Starbrights’ estate.

"I mean, you must get sick on occasion," Crowley continued, stepping away from the path to the house and leading them towards the barn with the other horses and those damn pair of goats that hated him. "Surely you must, or else you're too perfect and I don't think I can discover another perfect thing about you today. You'll have to share with me tomorrow." He laughed, because he thought he was fun and because he didn't want Aziraphale to know he was serious. "What would you like from me if you get sick? Affection? Tender care? Broth?"

Aziraphale thought about the last time he had been truly fallen ill. It was hard to remember, actually.

“I’m far from perfect, I can tell you that. If I have inherited one thing from my father though, it’s a sturdy health. But I do get sick, yes, and all of the offers sound lovely. I guess having you near me would be enough to make me feel better in an instant.”

Aziraphale smiled at him like the besotted fool he was. Damn, he had to get a hold of that too before they ran into anyone. Mr. Shadwell for example.

It was to Aziraphale’s great amusement that the goats actually glared at Crowley when they passed them. How could somebody be on bad terms with goats? Well, Crowley was a man of many talents, one way or the other. And then, further in, they found a place for Lazarus and brushed him a little to get him settled.

“No shenanigans, you’re a guest!”

Crowley stayed just outside the barn, leaning against it and smiling affectionately at Aziraphale. 

Well, mostly. 

One of the goats was getting a little "stampy" and snorting in that certain way that meant Crowley should go find another activity.

"Let me go get Shadwell and let him know about Lazarus so he doesn't think he accidentally stole another horse again." He knocked his knuckles on the wood, which made the goat on the right rise up and stomp down, brandishing it's horns. "Yep! Two shakes of a lambs...er...." And Crowley headed up the short hill to see if Shadwell was in his usual spot near the front door, taking a smoke break.

Crowley ran into Newton instead, one of the few other servants who he was on a somehow strained yet friendly terms with and told him to send a message to the Fells in another two hours about how Aziraphale had been visiting to see the garden and it was getting dark and he should spend the night as a guest.

"But it isn't dark," Newton reasoned quietly.

"Yes, but it will be in two hours when you send that message. And tell Shadwell his horse is in our barn!"

“Tell Mr. Shadwell that Mr. Shadwell’s horse is int he barn?” Newt asked, a touch confused.   
“No!” Crowley sighed at the ground and started again.

Aziraphale waited patiently for Crowley's return and used the time to get a closer look at the fiendish goats. To his delight they seemed to be interested in him, still a little bit suspicious but interested. Aziraphale sat down and started talking to them, making some compliments about their impressive horns and everything. So, when somebody came down to tend the horse, Aziraphale was happily petting the two goats,  _ chatting _ with them. Lazarus seemed unimpressed.

"You seem to have a jolly good life here, mh? My, Crowley takes his time..."

Crowley had been called up to the house very briefly as Newton ran down to the barn, on request from Mr. Shadwell, who could not be arsed to move from his spot.

Newton was surprised to see Aziraphale in the goat pen, with the goats,  _ chatting _ with them.

"Oh, goodness. Uh, hello, sir," he said politely, tripping slowly to the other side of the barn where Lazarus was waiting patiently for maybe a pet or a brushing or some oats, if he were so inclined.

Aziraphale looked up from one of the goats who had been thoroughly scratched under the chin till now and smiled at the unfamiliar face.

"Hello. I'm Aziraphale Fell, a friend of Crowley’s. What's your name, if I may ask? And…. Where  _ is _ Crowley?" 

The goat that had been scratched was sounding it's disapproval of the not getting enough attention with a loud, “ _ Bah _ .” Aziraphale pet its head with absent-minded fondness and smiled at the boy.

"His father's been called...er. No, sorry. Wrong order. I'm Newton, currently working under Mr. Shadwell for the Stabrbrigh's. Uh. Newt is...fine too. Elias there really likes you!" He grinned and grabbed a bucket to fetch some water for the troughs. "Right, Mr. Crowley!" 

He turned back and bumped the bucket to his chest. \

"His father called him into the library for something. I suspect it's just a question about supplies. He should be back very soon. You're the gentleman who went to his room when he was sick? Are you...."

Newton blushed and shook his head quickly.

"No, right. Sorry. You're a very good friend, I suppose. Right, need to get the water. Good day, Mr.... You're Mr. Fell, right? Right, no, you said. Yes, Mr. Fell. Good day, Mr. Fell!"

“It was a pleasure to meet you, young Mr. Newt.” Aziraphale laughed gently and turned to the goat who was nudging in for my chin-scratches. “So. You're Elias, eh? Such a fitting name."

One had to wonder. By the way Newton spoke, it seemed as though he knew of Aziraphale before the introductions. And about Crowley’s visitor when he was sick. How did the young lad know about this? And why did he ask if... _ oh dear _ . Aziraphale blushed and watched how Newton stumbled away.

"Yes, well, good day, Newt."

"Good day, Mr. Fell!"

Newt cursed himself for repeating himself and walked back out the door.

-

After nearly twenty minutes, Crowley finally came back in, looking a bit grumpy and unhappy, but changing his tune to happy when he spotted Aziraphale. Elias and his horned companion did not understand why Aziraphale was so happy to see that menace of a human again. Nor why he would get up to go greet said menace, and yet he did!

Aziraphale walked up to meet Crowley halfway into the barn, a little concerned about the look on his lover’s face.

"Dear, is everything all right?"

"Of course it is," Crowley answered, stepping carefully over to him. "Have these two bewitched you?" He bent and got a fistful of hay, holding it out to the goats, who couldn't give a hoot about Crowley. He fiddled his fingers and dropped the hay with a sigh, returning to Aziraphale’s question. "My father wanted to get me more involved. Hastur's been slacking on keeping up with the suppliers, such and such." He stuck out his tongue, pretending to wretch before he laughed. "Come here, Angel. I can't get any closer." 

Seemed mostly true, in fact, because while Crowley laughed, he had to pull his hand away before Elias or his brother Chesterfield decided to bite him.

Aziraphale got over to Crowley, scrunching his nose at the thought of getting shoved into the business affairs.

"Now, everyone here will behave and no one gets kicked or bitten." Aziraphale turned to the goats, giving them a thorough look. "Right? Right. Mm, let's get back to the house. Me just standing around here might be suspicious. Young Newton actually knew that I visited you and he'd been acting...strange. Well, never mind. Does your father know I'm here or do I have to sneak in like the secret lover I am?".

Crowley chuckled, dusting off his hands before he reached for Aziraphale again. "My wonderful secret lover. Best to let him know, Newt's going to spill the proverbial beans without meaning." He pulled Aziraphale closer, their noses touching. "He's just awkward about everything, don't let him worry you. And...of  _ course  _ you should sneak into my room like the secret lover you are. Isn't that more fun?"

He grinned and traced Aziraphale's cheek before he felt a little persistent headbutt of Chesterfield trying to budge his way between them, gently grazing for a treat. 

“I think we should go to the house or we won’t have a quiet minute here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Elias. Chesterfield.” 

He took Crowley’s hand in his and dragged him along.

“Maybe I should give my greetings to your father? It would only be polite. And then, we’ll retreat to your chambers and won’t leave the bed until the sun rises again. Sounds like a plan to you?”

Aziraphale pecked his cheek and went on, feeling lighter than a feather. Everything was pure bliss right now and it was hard to let go of Crowley’s hand when they approached the manor. And, as such, Crowley was happy to get away from the barn, casually strolling up while holding Aziraphale's hand. The crunch of the paths underfoot and the soft breeze across the estate was a nice melodic backdrop to the day as they approached. Shadwell had finally disappeared from his stoop, so they had little issue getting into the house. 

"We'll forgo the usual tour then?" Crowley asked around a laugh, strolling as he would without guests to worry about. They side-stepped a servant carrying new bedding. 

"Oh, Flo, love. Did Gertie finish up any of those rosemary crisps?"

"You steal any before dinner and she'll ring your neck!" Florence answered around the bedding, continuing down the hall.

Crowley just laughed brightly, tugging Aziraphale closer. The way Crowley interacted with the servants, and they with him in return, made Aziraphale’s heart swell with even more affection. He was so nice and relaxed right now. Aziraphale wanted to do everything to protect that state for him.

The prospect to steal a little scrummy thing to nibble was the cherry on top of this blissful day.

"Bet we can still get some," Crowley whispered, heading towards the slightly hidden hallway and down to the kitchen at the back of the house. They got as far as a linen closet when the steps announced Hastur coming down with a hurried tempo. He only looked up when he was about to crash into them.

"Crowley," Hastur grumbled, adjusting his coat. "You almost... who's this?" He sneered, which was not so much the fault of Aziraphale as that seemed his default expression. "He's a Fell. You're a Fell?"

Aziraphale was a little startled about the almost crash and huffed when Hastur forgot even the tiniest bit of proper behavior. If he ever had it in the first place.

“I’m a Fell. One that talked to you last night.  _ Several  _ times.” His tone was even but a little iffy, emphasized by a raised eyebrow, which was summarily dismissed by Hastur, like he couldn’t be bothered to remember anything from five minutes ago, let alone last night. Or any of the times they might have seen each other at any of the social gatherings he had dragged Crowley to. 

Really, a stone had better manners.

“I went out for a ride and was in the area. I met Crowley outside and he was so nice to invite me. You’re in a hurry, it seems….”

"In a hurry, yeah," Hastur answered, lifting his chin to scratch the length of his neck above his dull, poorly-tied cravat. He offered a tight smile for Aziraphale.

"Are you leaving?" Crowley asked. "He couldn't find you earlier."   
“He,” being their father in question, who was close to raving with how bungled their orders were in the diary. Accounts overpaid here, underpaid there. Had Hastur even touched a receipt in the past month?

"Reason for that," Hastur answered. "Don't spoil this for me."

"Likewise," Crowley mumbled, hiding his hand interlinked with Aziraphale between them. 

Hastur didn't give them a second glance as those long, spindly legs carried him past and hurried for the first door that would get him outside. Crowley huffed out a strained laugh, running his fingers obsessively over his braid. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly, leaning close to keep their conversation intimately private.

“Don’t be, you’re not responsible for his behavior.” Aziraphale offered him a warm smile and squeezed his hand. “And he hasn’t spoiled anything. Nothing can spoil this perfect day, dear.”

Crowley was about to kiss Aziraphale, already moving to cup his cheek, just to show his appreciation. But, of course, someone else was coming down the hallway and Crowley lost his nerve, simply blushing and smiling.

"It is a perfect day," he whispered. "Come on." He led the further into the house.

They were practically giggling again when Crowley showed him where the kitchen was and how to avoid Gertie's watchful eye. Two more people warned him against stealing from her, but there were stacks of crisps cooling on gingham rags and Crowley was whispering hurriedly, "here, here, hold out your hands, go go go go go!" He piled some into Aziraphale's hands and snagged a few for himself when the familiar–to Crowley–sound of Greta emerging from the cool cellar alerted him that they needed to run. 

He felt young and foolish, dashing back out through the servant's dining area and back out to a sitting room with a covered piano forte and couches for the residents. Crowley could not stop a peel of laughter, occasionally munching on the buttery rosemary and fig crisps. Aziraphale joined him in the infectious delight, feeling so happy that he could rival the sun in the sky.

It was strange, but it was perfect. Azirahale truly felt it. He was loved, they had made love, out in the open and Crowley had opened up to him, letting Aziraphale in on his wonderful and vulnerable core that he wanted to protect this charming young man and cherish his odditied the rest of their feeble lives.

They fell together on one of the couches, first Aziraphale who then pulled Crowley down and, completely unintentionally of course, half into his lap. This caused another fit of giggles and he almost let the crisps fall. He was a little breathless and let his head fall back on the headrest with a small thump.

“Now I’ll be banned from your kitchen forever I guess. But it was worth it!”

Crowley simply hummed and stole from Aziraphale’s hoard. He shook his head and nuzzled their foreheads together. 

"Not if we eat the evidence. Then she'll just be mad at me."

He offered to feed some of them to Aziraphale so his hands were free to dive into that soft blonde hair, chasing after nibbles with his lips, chewing and potential choking be damned. 

Aziraphale snorted into the half kiss and wrung his arms around Crowley to push him properly into his lap. Neither of them seemed to fear to be found out right now, too besotted to even consider this.

“Mhh...I think that was the best one so far. But there are other things I would actually like to taste, Mr. Starbright...”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley through his eyelashes, feigning innocence and just waiting for Crowley’s reaction.

"Need me to snag you a cheese to go with it?" Crowley asked, grinning back at him and setting his forearms easily atop Aziraphale's shoulders. He made himself perfectly comfortable now on Aziraphale's lap, missing the implication of whatever Aziraphale was getting at, just enjoying the happy, warm closeness. "I bet it would compliment the figs."

Ah, there it was again! Aziraphale hoped dearly to preserve that innocence, even with his own insatiable self around. He buried his head in Crowley's shoulder, shaking from a stifled laugh. When that faded, he just breathed him in that unique scent with something like a mix of cinnamon and fresh lemons. Aziraphale's hands began to wander over the lithe back, little caresses and a momentary squeeze. To share this tenderness and closeness out in the open had been something impossible but yet they were sitting here, entwined and careless as children.

Aziraphale may have dozed off at some point because he was startled by a commotion outside.

"Uh...Crowley? Wha...what was that?"

The sounds tugged a little at Crowley’s senses, but he wanted to ignore it. They had just managed to settle down completely, their minds hazy and wonderfully adrift in the warmth and comfort of each other, the sunlight coming in through the window. Except that bloody  _ sound _ . What was it? If it got Aziraphale to rouse, it must be something. 

"I don't know. Let me go check." He kissed Aziraphale quickly before he stood up and stretched, going over towards the window to try and spot something.

Turned out to be nothing more than Mr. Shadwell, who was cursing like a sailor about something that had been cluttered around. He had tripped on it. Stubbed his toe. And now it would rue the day of it’s creation.

Aziraphale got up himself and yawned. They had been spent themselves back on that hill and he could feel a certain exhaustion pulling him down. He’d been taut like a bow the whole morning, riding on that thrill of finally getting what he wanted and now he got more and more relaxed. He walked over to Crowley by the window, who was giggling as he watched Shadwell pick something off the ground and hurl it far away only to stop and arch his back. Aziraphale stole a moment, hugging him from behind and kissing his neck. Crowley flinched, giggling with his mouth buttoned shut, and settled again when he felt Aziraphale’s lips on his skin.

“Mhh dear, I feel quite spent. How about we steal a moment in your room and I read something for us? You could lay your head in my lap while I’m doing it.”

"I think we should, especially before my mother or father try to come here for their own relaxation." He turned in his arms and held Aziraphale, slowly brushing the tip of his nose down the bridge of Aziraphale's nose. 

"Come on," he whispered and then quickly pulled away, guiding him down the hallway. Aziraphale followed obediently, squeezing that beautiful hand as often as he could.

Even though their destination was just the bedroom again and they were trying to be sneaky about it for the moment, Aziraphale looked around, taking things in he hadn't seen before and trying to memorize it. When they passed one of Crowley’s portraits, Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh.

"You look so grumpy in this one! Were you glaring at the artist the whole time?"

Crowley paused long enough to look at the painting. He laughed at himself but was tugging him away from it, clearly trying to turn Aziraphale's head so he wouldn't look at it.

"I mean, look at that ridiculous collar. Couldn't turn my head. Itchier than Satan's wool thermals. And he was  _ flirting _ with my  _ brother. _ And my mother, come to think of it." Crowley stared off down the hallway, slowly tapping his finger. "He may have just been friendly to everyone. I think I had a headache that day.... Oh my god, I was a complete ass to him!"

Aziraphale could picture the whole situation perfectly and burst into a fit of giggles again.

“Oh, don’t think too hard about it, dear.”

When they finally arrived at their destination, Aziraphale felt a little nervous, actually. He determined it wasn’t  _ bad _ nerves, per say. Last time he’d been here the room had been dark, due to the state of Crowley and a need for him to rest and Aziraphale had been so focused on him that he didn’t look around at all. It was a wonderful thing to discover everything about Crowley and his room was one of those things.

The window looking out at the shady forest behind the manor had the curtains drawn, for a change, leaving the room in an orange-rose glow. The bed was still stuck against the wall, which was very against how Florence wanted it for ease of changing the sheets, but he kept stubbornly moving it back. There was a fireplace, a low fire crackling from earlier. A desk and chair padded with a coat over the ornate chair hid against the other wall. The desk was bare, papers hidden inside a drawer, with a dry inkwell tipped on its side as evidence it was ever used. Crowley meant to replace it, but had not done so recently. 

The shelves of books were less than Aziraphale's, at least with actual books. Several little charms, figurines and glittery items piled atop each other, hidden in a thick wall of ivy, as though Crowley placed them when he precured them and then forgot them. The shelf with the trinkets just reminded Aziraphale of a magpie’s nest and it was the most adorable thing to see.

Another smaller, fragile-looking chair near the bed had the botany book set within arms reach.

Crowley closed the door behind them, rubbing Aziraphale's shoulders. "Come here. Come here and relax." 

He guided Aziraphale to sit, immediately kneeling to help him remove his boots.

Aziraphale blushed when Crowley kneeled before him. It was almost as intimate as making love somehow. He was so eager to please, to make Azirphale comfortable and feel good. God, he loved that man, to an extent where it almost felt like it was too much.  _ Almost _ .

“I,uh, I want you to know. Crowley, you don’t have to do that. Really! You should relax too.”

"We're in my room. I'm relaxed as ever." 

Crowley plucked the laces with a hazy grin. When he got the first boot off, he rubbed Aziraphale's calf and kissed his knee before he worked on the second one.

And Aziraphale had thought that he was a tease at times.

He swallowed, his throat feeling too dry all of a sudden and he was certain that he sported a full on blush now. How could he get so flustered from  _ this _ ? He wanted to avert his eyes but couldn’t. Instead he managed a bashful smile, watching those deftly long fingers work on his laces.

When the second boot was off and set aside–neatly, in fact, right next to each other–Crowley rubbed his other free leg before he stood up and crawled into his lap, hugging him around his shoulders and resting their foreheads together with his eyes closed.

"You're blushing," he muttered absently. "Did I do something... wrong?"

Aziraphale inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as well.

"No. There's nothing you could do wrong, love. It's just that...I'm not used to being the center of so much... _ dedication _ ." He slung his arms around the slender waist and pulled Crowley closer, laying one hand on the small of Crowley’s back. "This day is not allowed to end. Under no circumstances. I simply won't allow it."

Crowley chuckled, arching into the touch so their stomachs touched. 

"I'll stop time then, shall I?" 

Crowley wrapped his arms around him as well, his hands wandering up to comb through Aziraphale's curls. 

"I  _ like _ dedicating to you," Crowley whispered sweetly. "I'm going to lay all my affections at your feet."

“Oh, it would be lovely if you could manage that.” Aziraphale’s leaned into the hand in his hair, making small content sounds. He would purr if he could. “But that’s something too precious to lay down. It’s something to be held up high and cherished.”

He kissed the side of Crowley’s lips, then his cheek. He could feel the love between them, seeping in through the clothes into the skin and even deeper, until it was settled in the bones. 

No book he ever read could have given him an idea of such a deep feeling. Every second with Crowley felt  _ right _ , like it was meant to be.

“I know I’m repeating myself but I love you, Crowley Starbright. Sincerely and from the bottom of my useless and over romantic heart.”

"Signed, stamped, delivered?" Crowley asked, chuckling into Aziraphale's neck. He sat up and looked him firmly in the eye.

"I love you. Aziraphale Fell. Mmm... Crowley Fell." He twisted his mouth a little and considered a moment, his eyes twinkling. "Aziraphale Starbright," he whispered, cupping Aziraphale's face.

“Oh, both of these sound wonderful.” Aziraphale smiled brightly, his eyes wrinkling. “Trust me, if there would be any chance to marry you, I would. Right away. Maybe I should disguise myself as Angela?”

And then Aziraphale had an idea.

He fumbled with his own hands behind Crowley’s back and brought them back up between them. He reached up with his right hand to take Crowley’s left, which was momentarily stroking Aziraphale’s cheek. Once Aziraphale had it, he gently planted a kiss on the palm. He pulled back a little, so that there would be enough space for what he wanted to do, his thumb brushing over the long fingers while he looked in those round and wonderful amber eyes. He even cleared his throat.

“Dearest Crowley. My love. I, Aziraphale Zachariah Fell, promise to cherish and love you for the rest of our mortal lives. In better and worse, in light and in darkness, until I draw my last breath.”

Oh he knew that the middle name wouldn’t go unnoticed, but he couldn’t care less right now. He felt his hands shake a little. God help him, there was no turning back now.

“Take this ring as a token of my vow to you...”

He pushed the small metal band from his own pinky up Crowley’s ring finger, working slowly over each knuckle, tentatively pressing the skin until it was snuggly in place, concentrating on his work until he finally looked back up into Crowley’s eyes.

Certainly, those eyes were as big as saucers, staring hard down at his hands, not out of the nagging fear that he was not enough for this man, that he was only going to stain and tarnish and burden–those demons sat quietly at the back of his mind, waiting–but so he couldn't miss a thing about the moment. Crowley drank in the details of Aziraphale's posture, his very neat and manicured nails, how they trembled, how they cupped him, how the small ring glinted in the cooling light. 

Then it all went blurry and he quickly shut his eyes, leaning into Aziraphale. 

"I accept," he whispered, clenching his hand tightly to keep the ring on. "I'll never take it off. I will be yours forever, love." He laughed, spilling shamefully bright tears on both of them. "Oh!" 

Crowley gasped and stood up, almost tripping. His legs were wobbly from sitting on Aziraphale's lap. He caught himself and rummaged quickly, almost violently through his shelves, picking open little cases and tsking himself. He shouted a small triumphant sound before he came back over and practically launched himself on Aziraphale. 

"You're making a huge mistake," Crowley teased, wiping his face quickly. He laughed and sighed and took Aziraphale's hand. "Really. But. Herm."

Crowely swallowed and sobered up, squaring his shoulders.

"Aziraphale  _ Zachariah _ ..." he said pointedly, biting the tip of his tongue as he grinned, "Fell. My Angel. I, Crowley J. Starbright...." Crowley found his words dying as he circled his fingers around Aziraphale's, staring at his beautiful pale hand. "I...cherish you. I'll always cherish you. I love you and I'll always love you, through every ailment and rainstorm and sunshine and...and I love you. Until the world sees fit to get rid of me." 

Crowley smiled and kissed Aziraphale's hand. "Or you do," he whispered cheekily as he slid the small simple silver band with little ivy petals wrapped around it up onto Aziraphale's finger. It has been a rare heirloom from their great great grandmother and he had pilfered it when he was young because, while it wasn't bright and it was too big for him, he loved the design on it.

Aziraphale eyes went as wide as Crowley’s had, coupled with a wobbly smile. He wiggled happily through it all. It was too hard to suppress it with all the happiness he felt. When Crowley spoke his vow, he made some horrible sound between a sob and laughter.

“I think this is the best mistake I’ve ever made. Oh Crowley it’s lovely...“

He inspected the ring on his hand, looking back up at Crowley’s face, with its wet streaks from happy tears and a smile that almost reached his ears, his eyes shining so bright they could be the morning star. 

“I think that’s the moment when you’re allowed to kiss your spouse...”

It was his turn to take that pretty face into his hands. He leaned forward into an impassioned kiss, pulling his lover as close as possible.

After a moment, though, Aziraphale had to pull back and looked at Crowley with feigned sternness.

“Crowley J. Starbright, don’t you dare thinking that I would want to get rid of you! Never.” He gave him another peck on the lips before he pulled back yet again. “What does the J stand for?”

Crowley swooned, swaying forward to chase Aziraphale's lips, drunk on it. He hummed and had to force his eyes back open. 

"Mm? Oh...nng a...just a 'J.'"

Before Aziraphale could ask more, Crowley wrapped him up and guided him to rest back against the pillows. "Zachariah," he whispered, as though Aziraphale were the one to talk. He chuckled while he sought his hands, interlocking their fingers and pulling them in to be safe between their chests.

“Ah...yes it’s only ever used when there’s something official or I’m about to get a good scolding...”

Aziraphale melted into the bedding and enjoyed the weight of Crowley above him. His finger with the ring tingled slightly, the metal already warm from his body’s heat. 

“So...now you don’t have a secret wife but a secret husband.”

Oh that felt nice. Thrilling really.  _ Husband. This is my husband. Have you met my significant other? Yes, that’s my husband right there. _

He kissed Crowley again, slowly now, savoring every second of it and he squeezed their hands together, he could feel Crowley’s ring against his fingers. 

“I can’t wait to whisk you away to London with me. We’ll have this every day, waking up together, falling asleep together. I’ll read to you as often as possible and we won’t have to go to another atrocious ball ever again.”

Crowley moaned at the prospect, melting against him.

"Marry me again, Angel," he said warmly, snuggling into him. He relaxed, curling into him with a now familiar ease and natural shape. When he was settled, he lifted Aziraphale's hand to trace across his tendons, over his knuckles, and pausing every now again on his ring. The casual playing of hands had a soporific effect, almost meditative. He felt his mind swimming and his nerves dispersing to a stillness, not because of boredom or regret, but because he was relaxed and content and finally asked, "Do you have a location yet for the shop? Plans on when you're going to officially have it?"

"Yes, though it's not in the best neighborhood. I’m still waiting for a confirmation of my offer. It should arrive any day now.”   
“Bad neighborhood? Really?” Crowley couldn't wait to see Aziraphale's shop. That it could potentially be in a bad neighborhood only made him more fond of it, for reasons he couldn't explain.

“Not bad. Just...well, you’ll see.”

And that was a promise right there, true enough.

Aziraphale watched the tender caresses of his hand for a while and decided then, that there should be more kissing. There could never be enough kissing. He raised Crowley's chin with his other hand and started to plant soft and slow kisses on that delectable mouth. Crowley felt unprepared for the kiss but smiled and warmed back up into it, sliding his hands up to gently grip Aziraphale's shirt.


	10. Fingers Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 and 11 are really just "the boys discover sex is a good thing" at this point XD. Hope you enjoy!

The kisses remained on the chaste side, just there to sate the need of closeness that was thrumming in their minds. Aziraphale even lost track of how long they were simply entwined before he stopped with a small kiss on the tip of Crowley’s nose.

"I'm quite insatiable when it comes to you, I'm afraid. It's even worse than my unheard desire for pastries.” 

"Pastries," Crowley repeated quietly, petting Aziraphale's face. "Noted."   
“Mmhmm. And what,  _ dear husband, _ would  _ you _ like to do now? I'm up for anything. Or down, more accurately right now."

Crowley considered Aziraphale's question while he smoothed his hand up and down Aziraphale's shirt. 

"We should have fewer clothes. It was wonderful out on the hill and I think. I think we should be comfortable."

"Oh?"

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise. He'd wanted to do that the moment he walked through the door but thought he would be too pushy to ask for more. Was it too soon, after the hill? After...after a proposal?. He  _ had  _ just admitted that he was a hopeless sinner in that department.

"I agree. But maybe we should lock the door this time before getting more  _ comfortable _ ." Oh he couldn't wait to get his hands on Crowley's wonderful body again. "And, if you're amenable, I can help you with those uncomfortable clothes right away."

Crowley chuckled, tugging Aziraphale closer, ghosting their lips together before he rolled away effortlessly and got up. He stretched hard out of habit, tip toeing to the door. He reached up blindly until he found the key, almost knocking it onto his own head. It was not the suave, sensual display it was meant to be, but he finally turned the lock before he placed the key back above the door. He tested the handle just in case.

"There. Just us." 

Crowley crossed back over, reaching already when he was only halfway there, returning to Aziraphale with a delighted hum. Aziraphale bit his lip to stifle a laugh and took Crowley's arms, meeting him there and pulling him into a kiss. His hands slid over Crowley's forearms, up his biceps to his neck. His fingertips danced over the delicate skin, brushing down over the prominent collarbones and chest until he felt the buttons of the vest. He started to undo them without any haste.

They were safe here. No one would be able to walk in on them. They knew how each other felt on their own skin and they each savoured the feeling of tingling anticipation.

The vest was undone quickly and Aziraphale brushed it off Crowley’s shoulders, his hands coming back to explore that chest once more. Truly, Aziraphale had a gift. It seemed no button or clasp or ribbon had stumped him yet and Crowely only got so far as rubbing Aziraphale's stomach before his vest was gone. He sighed, a melting sound, moving and shifting wherever Aziraphale needed or wanted.

"Quite the talents," Crowely breathed, letting his shoulders go slack for Aziraphale to have an easier time getting under his shirt. He stretched his neck too, unconsciously exposing himself with an unspoken desire that Aziraphale latch himself there.

Aziraphale got the message, first running a single finger over the tendon before he bit down into the pliant flesh in the juncture between neck and shoulder. He moaned, stifled by the flesh in his mouth. God, Crowley tasted divine. He forgot himself for a moment and saw that he’d left quite the mark there. He kissed the worried flesh apologetically and continued with softer bites.

“They do say that still waters run deep...” Aziraphale breathed against the neck while busy hands slowly rucked the shirt up on Crowley’s sides.

Crowley was not prepared to enjoy being  _ bitten _ like that. The reaction was practically instantaneous. He gasped, clutching Aziraphale and rolling his hips up tight against him. When the shirt went up, some of his skin exposed, he shivered.

"Let me get yours," Crowley whispered, curling down for open mouth kisses against Aziraphale's cheek. He already started to feel up Aziraphale’s chest and blindly found the first button, carefully undoing it. He was much slower from both the inexperience of taking another man's clothes off–oh, but today, he'd been learning, hadn't he–and the desire to be careful. To not break and lose a button between them and slow down their current trajectory.

Aziraphale hummed his agreement into Crowley's neck, licking a stripe up to the spot behind his ear while straightening up for his lover to get better access. His hands snuck under the now loose shirt and halted on his waist; his thumb began to draw soft circles into the warm skin. When the last button came undone, he shrugged out of his vest as well, letting it crumple on the floor. The only downside was that he had to take his hands off Crowley for even a moment.

The hip roll hadn't gone unnoticed and Aziraphale knew that he was already sporting an erection. Well, at least he wasn't alone, taken from the delicious press of Crowley’s hips against him. Again, another pass of his thumb, squeezing just a little harder.

There was a little spot directly beneath the top of his hip bone that made Crowley jolt, a jumpstart that made him practically cling to Aziraphale. Not a tickle, something more sensual, a nerve that seemed to drive straight between his legs, even further that he could curl his toes. 

Aziraphale was a little startled by the reaction at first but didn't mind the thrust at all.

Now this was interesting.

"Sorry," Crowley whispered absently, since he had thrusted a bit erratically from it. He giggled and brushed continuously through Aziraphale's hair.

"Don't be...." Aziraphale whispered back, kissing that spot behind his ear once more. "Let me test something..."

Aziraphale let his thumb brush that spot again, carefully this time. He leaned back and watched Crowley's face intently for the reaction. A little softer and it was definitely like a tickle. Crowley giggled, biting his tongue, his eyebrows curled up in surprise.

"Harder," he whispered, trying not to squirm and gripped Aziraphale's wrist so he would stop tickling him. "Please? Like before?"

"Your wish is my command." 

And with that he pressed harder into that spot. 

Crowley moaned. Actually, fully, the sound punched out of him until he pressed his lips together to muffle the sound. He remained in spot under Aziraphale's hand, but he would have bucked up again if he could. His eyes shut, his neck arched again, Crowley felt wonderfully electric.

The best course of action, so vibrantly reawakened with this new erogenous spot, was for Crowley to return to kissing him, wrapping Aziraphale up and inching to get closer, to return to his lap, to be atop him. Or under him. Or around him, damnit who cared as long as they were close, closer, closer than that. He pressed little needy whimpers into Aziraphale's mouth, riled up to the point where he had a hard time holding them back. Worse when Crowley started to circle his hips slightly to help Aziraphale dig into his skin, coupled with the teasing friction of his trousers.

Aziraphale drank the sounds in, swallowing them like a man wandering the desert and finally reaching a spring. He maneuvered them both so that Crowley was facing the bed and lowered him slowly down while not breaking the kiss until Crowley was lying under him.

It was an admirable sight, something to be savored, until Aziraphale’s impatience got the better of him and he pulled Crowley's shirt up over his head only to place kisses on the exposed chest, going farther down and dipping his tongue into the navel. \It was a bit awkward, not knowing where to put his hands after he was led to lay down, so Crowley simply gripped the pillow beneath his head after Aziraphale helped him shed his shirt. He squirmed again, another little jolt through his nerves, when Aziraphale laved his belly button, of all places.

He looked up from the taut belly, grinning.

"I want to explore this interesting little spot thoroughly, trust me. But I think it would be more comfortable for you if we get rid of all...that." He gestured over Crowley’s breeches.

"You're the expert there, love," Crowley answered, half teasing at how well he undid them last time. He shifted his shoulders and hummed in consideration, giving him a chance for all the skittering pleasure to relax across his skin. "You can have at them, but." Crowley reached and pet his hair. "Take off your shirt first." He softened more, smiling at him. "Please?"

Aziraphale smiled and gave his belly another kiss as an answer before he sat up and got rid of his own shirt. He even found the nerve to put on a little show, tugging it slowly. The shirt landed on the pile of the other abandoned clothes. He put his hands back on Crowley’s torso, scraping his nails down to the hem of the last inconvenience. He opened the buttons swiftly and hooked his fingers in to pull them down. He took in every inch of revealed skin, the trail of auburn hair that grew thicker with every drag down, the prominent hip bones he wanted to bite.

Aziraphale unclothed him reverently and caressed the muscular calves up to wiry thighs.

“Look at you. Even Aphrodite would be envious of you.”

Crowley attempted to relax. He loved the sensation and attention, even if the praise made him blush and squirm a little. But Aziraphale was being so wonderful to him and he slowly returned his hands up to the pillow, holding it in place. He was made to grip harder when Aziraphale started to kiss his left knee, trailing more up to the inside of Crowley’s thigh and placing a mix of tender bites and open mouthed kisses until he was back at  _ that _ spot. He looked up into Crowley’s eyes and pressed his thumb right there.

The trailing kisses already helped him flag to attention, as it were. Crowley smiled down at him, biting his lip, until Aziraphale got to that spot. The newly discovered pressure point.

Limited experience proved Crowley really wasn't a screamer. He wasn't. He wasn't even a talker, an issue with his tongue getting all thick and twisted and causing uneven words to squeak out. Wasn't very dignified, that's what. 

Oh, but this was  _ different. _

Crowley rocked up into the touch again, his mouth slack as he moaned towards the wall, quickly clawing the pillow up to cover his face. His cock twitched up against his abdomen. 

_ Damn _ him for having a literal weak spot, but it felt fantastic.

Aziraphale watched the reaction with awe, easing up on the pressure to give Crowley a little breather. A theory formed itself and he wanted to test it right away.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked calmly, and kissed a different spot, relenting on his casual torture with pleasure. “I want to try something, but only when you’re ready to take it.”

Crowley pressed his elbows together and mashed the pillow firmly to his face. But he pulled it away quickly only to show off that he was rosy red. Already, it was starting to get splotchy down his neck.

“Please don’t suffocate yourself, dearest. I don’t want to become a widower right on our wedding night.”

"Alright." He hummed, still tingly, and shook his head. "I'm alright. What...what are you thinking, hmm? Something devious?"

Aziraphale gave him a mischievous smile and searched for the same sweet spot under the other hipbone.

“Why not making it twice as pleasurable...?” he asked, while pressing both thumbs slowly into the hot skin.

Of course, his leg shot straight back out and Crowley bucked again, tossing his head back. 

" _ Angel! _ " he cried feverishly.

God, Crowley was a  _ vision _ . Panting and blushed, his prick already hard and red right in front of Aziraphale’s nose. He would taste him, oh for sure he would. But first things first.

It took some effort to get Crowley’s hips to still, to hold firm for Aziraphale, and Lord was he firm right now. It wasn't too long he was even leaking, a little shiny patch forming on Crowley’s stomach.

“Too much? Should I stop?”

Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s inner thigh, brushing his nose up and down to soothe him. He would love to keep pressing on, see how far he could push his sensitive lover, but he didn’t want to overwhelm him and, quite frankly, he wanted this to last. Instead of further teasing, Aziraphale crawled up to one of the red blooms of blushing skin, replacing his thumb with his lips to kiss it. It wasn’t as hard a push as his finger but hopefully pleasant. His other hand was caressing the hip bone.

“Tell me what you want, love. I can keep on doing that or do something different. I want you to feel good.”

"Oh, I feel good. I feel good," Crowley repeated, smoothing his hand down his face. "You're simply wonderful."

He rolled his hips up again, just a little, bumping Aziraphale. 

"Please keep touching me? Anywhere. Everywhere, I just...I want. You. I want you so terribly much it aches," he answered with a small hint of a whine at the very end there.

Aziraphale smiled softly. He just had to. He decided to remain in his current position and give those scrumptious hip bones some more love bites. He started to nibble on one and let his hands roam over Crowley’s belly up to his chest, groping there once or twice and feeling the sheen of sweat that had formed under his fingertips. 

While that hand was wandering, Aziraphale started to brush over Crowley’s nipples, feeling them harden under his fingers and pinching them after some careful attention. He was determined to store every sound and every twitch of Crowley away, so he could recall it in the future. Maybe, when they were finally alone in London he could test how loud he could make him scream.

It was all a delight. It was torture! It was wonderful. It was awful and divine and too much and Crowley didn't realize how sensitive separate parts of his body could be.

Nipples. Who thought about nipples? Who  _ paid attention to them? _ And now that Aziraphale had, Crowely was acutely aware of them, or of his hips, or of fingertips and lips dragging over his body and he moaned into the crook of his elbow.

"Az–...Aziraphale?" Crowely asked and sat up to grab Aziraphale's face and kiss him, even bent at such a severe angle. He was remarkably flexible. It was a curious trait and it was good to get to kiss him now. 

"Yes my..mhhff?"

"I'm going to explode, it's not fair," Crowley whispered, peppering his face over and over and smiling. "Can I come? Please? Would you let me? Is that selfish? I'll do what you like, yes? Good!"

The kisses were a little unexpected but not unwelcome; Aziraphale had just been a little lost in his task to turn Crowley into a withering mess. Looked like he had succeeded mostly. He couldn't help but chuckle. Those pleas were too adorable.

"Of course you can, I want this to be pleasant for you. And no, it's not selfish. I'm sorry that I haven't paid more attention to how strained you are."

Aziraphale kissed him one more time and took Crowley's throbbing cock in his hand, pumping the shaft one time before kissing the head to get a taste.

Oh this was good. Not in a real tasty way but as far as Aziraphale could remember this tasted better than it should. He looked back up at Crowley, his lips still lightly pressed to the heated skin.

"Don't hold back or anything. Just let go."

And with that, Aziraphale sank down on him, taking Crowley in as far as he could.

It wasn't as deep as Crowley's first attempt - they definitely had to do  _ that _ again - but he made sure to cover the rest with his hand, pumping in rhythm with the bobbing of his head. He pressed his tongue against the sensitive underside of the head and hollowed his cheeks as he sank down the next time.

There was hardly any need for a third bob. It seemed that with just permission granted, Crowley felt the tether snap and he was undone, tossing his head back and covering his face with his arms. He only half remembered to keep his hips still, pumping them shallowly as his orgasm was wrung out completely. He was sensitive to the touch, twitching long after he had came, but did not dare reach to stop Aziraphale. 

Until even that wasn't enough and he  _ did _ reach, his breathing erratic and his smile hazy.

Aziraphale let go of him most carefully, looking up with glazed eyes and heavy breathing himself. Crowley looked thoroughly wrecked and Aziraphale was sure he was in no better shape with his kiss swollen lips, mussed hair and several sticky streaks on his chin. He wiped his mouth and chin, climbing up to take this mess of a lover into his arms and peppering his face with kisses.

"You're alright, my dear?"

Aziraphale was still breathless and tried to ignore the throbbing pressure between his legs. This was not important right now. Crowley was.

Crowley was on him in an instant, curling around him, dragging his leg up to nestle between Aziraphale's thighs. 

"Yes, yes, more than!" 

He moaned softly at the contact of his lover, of his  _ husband _ wrapped up safely in his arms, like he was starved for it or overwhelmed by it. He could feel Aziraphale's need and smiled against him, shifting his leg to rub upwards. 

"Let me help. Tell me, please, what can I do. I love you, I love you so much."

Aziraphale was surprised by that lap full of Crowley. He'd intended to give him some time to come down again but if he wanted to see to Aziraphale so urgently….

Aziraphale groaned, the pressure was almost too much. He rolled his hips against the slender legs and gripped Crowley's shoulders for support. 

"I..  _ Hngg _ I love you too, my dearest. Would you... use your mouth as well?"

"You liked that?" he teased, still a bit twitchy, like he was being prodded by something every now and again.   
"I would say I loved it. Yes."

And then Crowley slipped away from him. He helped them switch spots, so that Aziraphale was laying comfortably against the pillows. He quickly settled between his legs, smiling up at him, and immediately pampered his stomach first, holding it, nuzzling it, kissing it, whispering lovely admiration to it, promises to love him entirely and always before he seemed to remember the need to get Aziraphale's trousers off. 

It was a nice and calming moment to work on them, as he was very careful getting them open and helping him rise his hips to pull them off, slipping back up with the agility of a serpent to kiss below his belly button, like he had been taking notes from Aziraphale during his teasing. Aziraphale hummed and relaxed, enjoying every touch and kiss, trying hard not to blush too hard from the attention to his plush middle.

Aziraphale lay one hand on Crowley's hair, fondling his head and smiling down at him with hooded eyes.

"You're so beautiful, I still can't believe my luck..."

Crowley licked his bottom lip between his teeth, practically nuzzling Aziraphale's cock waiting right before him even with that gentle petting. 

"You're beautiful, Angel. You're a vision." He hummed, and began to kiss the lovely swollen red head. "You're too good for me..." Another kiss, a little lick. "You're so...so wonderful."    
Every little kiss forced a whimper out of Aziraphale. He tried to resist the urge to let his head fall back into the pillows, the scene before him was too good to miss. He could feel his prick twitching, feeling small spots of precum making their way up to be devoured by those sinful red lips.

And then Crowley simply pressed with his lips, sinking down with a greedy, loving moan.

He couldn’t fight it anymore when Crowley sank down, his head falling back with a shudder that travelled through him from tip to tail. His hand tightened in Crowley’s hair, tugging a little to make his love feel the slight sting.

“ _ Ohlordinheaven _ ~nnnnn!”

It was just a string of words, moaned into the room. He was already quite desperate but it wasn’t enough yet to bring him over the edge. He bucked his hips up a little to feel more of that incredible heat.

Again, that little bubble of pride swelled up in Crowley. He didn't even wonder what other people in the house might think, walking the hallways, if they could hear them. His room was nestled towards the back. Truly, the only one they had to worry about was Gertie, maybe.

Instead, Crowley tried to suck back upwards, copying the delightful sensation he had felt Aziraphale do to him. He pulled his cheeks together and then slipped back down again, down and down and swallowed him right to the end, pausing there for an obscenely happy moment, swallowing around him.

Aziraphale keened, his back arching of the bed. He had almost forgotten this precious little detail. His hand slipped from Crowley's head, scrambling for purchase on the sheets. His thighs started to tremble; a few more if these and he would be gone.

"Again. Oh God, do it again!"

Crowley would have grinned, if his mouth weren’t so presently occupied. He pulled up nearly to the top and then slipped back down. But he paused so he could grasp him with his hand, a neat little difference in pressure and sensation he noticed Aziraphale had provided. Up and down he went, sucking on the way up. Before the third one, he removed his hand and then sank down all the way again.

Aziraphale was done for when he was taken in so deep again. His toes curled in, grasping the sheets beneath, his thighs coiled tight, bracketing Crowley between them as he spilled hot down his throat. He bit his lower lip hard in an attempt to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill out too loud. 

Those plush hips jerked for what felt like forever until Aziraphale’s body went lax and his thighs fell apart, still trembling. He was quite sure that he'd never came this hard until now.

In truth, Crowley struggled to swallow all of what was offered. He spluttered a little and pulled back with more of a kiss than anything, dabbing at his lips as he rasped a little to breathe, doing his best not to cough directly on Aziraphale then, who reached for him again. He understood the need to touch, choking down the sting in his throat and placed his cheek in Aziraphale’s hand.

"Nnhh... So good. Too good. You've been...amazing..."

"Angel," he whispered hoarsely and swallowed again. "I love you so much." 

Crolwey grinned, leaning into the touch, even if the praise was almost too much. Hardly amazing. Not good. Except Aziraphale was insistent, even with Crowley’s hiccup of a protest. So, he climbed up again and settled instantly into the natural warmth of his husband. 

"I love you," Crowley repeated and hid cold fingertips against their combined skin, smiling dazedly.

Aziraphale encompassed him in a tight embrace as soon as Crowley was close enough for it. He kissed him lightly and pulled him close, tangling their legs so there wouldn't be any spot left where they didn't touch.

"And I love you. Deeply, unfathomably."

He reached for Crowley's left hand, kissing the ring there.

"My husband... Oh I think I'll never get tired to hear it."

"No, I think you'll have to say it a hundred times a day for a hundred years before it loses the appeal."

Crowley clenched his fingers down around Aziraphale and rested his head neatly on his chest. 

"My husband," he repeated back softly. "Mm, my  _ husband. _ " 

Aziraphale was gifted with a natural warmth that lulled Crowley, making him soft. He had to chuckle at it and pulled his husband - oh it really wouldn't get old, never - closer. The feeling of sweaty skin on skin was the best Aziraphale had ever been allowed to experience. A benign pleasure of exhaustion and exertion. He wouldn't be shocked if both of them would start glowing, since that felt just right.

Aziraphale buried his nose in the damp hair, smiling contentedly. He eventually came to the conclusion to blindly search for the blanket; he wouldn't let his beloved get cold tonight, oh no!

"Mhhh...I could fall asleep this way. I want to, every night. And we will..." Aziraphale’s voice was already a little sleep-heavy. Everything was perfect. Just perfect. "And dear….” An idle kiss to Crowley’s brow, so he might still hear what Aziraphale had to say while he slipped off into sleep. “You're quite the natural."

_ Natural _ . Well, that was a surprise. 

"Mmmn. An...an excellent muse," Crowley answered, snuggling up tight against him under the covers. “Tutor...maybe. Better than me, anyhow.”

They had left the curtains drawn and, as the night wore on, muted pale moonlight dragged through the room and receded through the evening.

Entangled as they were, Aziraphale drifted into sleep while still murmuring sweet nothings into Crowley’s hair. He slept like a baby, just drifting on a cloud without any worries, just pure contentment and happiness. He managed to stay in this state until the sun vexed him enough to peel his eyes open.

They had changed position through the night. Aziraphale was pressed to the lithe back before him, one arm wrung over to his front, the other under Crowley’s pillow.

He made an irritated sound and pressed his head between Crowley’s hair and the pillow beneath.

“Mhhhngg....five more minutes...”

"Then bloody have them," Crowley muttered sleepily, dragging his hand across Aziraphale's arm and pulling it up high to his chest, interlocking their fingers.

"Bloody take what you like, Master Crowley, but we need them sheets," someone called from outside, knocking on the door. 

The hard-to-place accent could really only match up to one individual; Mr. Shadwell, who was standing next to Florence as she was collecting linen for their wash.

Some part in Aziraphale was suggesting that it was time to panic. The rest of him decided that it was too early for that. He lazily brushed his thumb over their joined fingers, kissing his head.

“Is it my turn to climb out of the window?” he whispered, nuzzling closer. 

"Climb out the...?"

Crowley turned a little in Aziraphale's arms and glanced back, meaning to turn and give him a kiss when he finally recognized the knocking, which hadn’t really relented even during their sleepy exchange. Shadwell was persistent if he was anything. 

" _ Shit _ ." Crowley hissed and loosened his grip on Aziraphale's hands. "No, no. Hold on a second, love." He kissed Aziraphale's cheek and hopped out, completely stark naked, tripping on something again on his way to the door. He stumbled down and swept up a shirt, throwing it over himself in a dash and raked his hands through his hair. It was slightly shorter but baggier than his own as he stepped up and opened the door on Shadwell and Florence, angling himself so he wasn't exposing the poor maid.

Aziraphale sat up and watched Crowley stumble through his room with the grace of a newborn foal, smiling to himself when Crowley pulled his own shirt over his mussed head. He had a wonderful view from the bed, seeing that cute bum only half covered by the fabric.

When Crowley opened the door, Aziraphle tried to be as still as possible but still felt safe enough to just listen to the conversation.

"Do you know how early it is?" Crowley mumbled.

"D'you?" Mr. Shadwell shot back. "Linens. We're havin' 'em washed."

"You mean Flo is washing them. Flo, dear, skip mine. Won't be a fuss."

"Won't be a fuss if the good gentleman in there joins us for breakfast neither, I presume?" Shadwell asked casually. 

Crowley gulped, flinching visibly.

"Secrets safe with me, lad. If there's a nip of Brandy for myself and Florence here to keep mum."

"Make mine a port," Florence said, turning down the hall to go get the rest of the linens that they were collecting.

_ Oh. _

So maybe they had been a little too love-drunk yesterday, or too loud. Aziraphale blushed and pulled the blanket up to cover himself more. This situation was somehow not as bad as expected and incredibly embarrassing at the same time. Another part of his brain reminded him that he’d been offered breakfast and that he should remember his manners.

So he did.

“Uhm...thank you!” Aziraphale called out quietly from the bedroom.

"Aye, thank ye, he says." Shadwell snorted a laugh.

Crowley grimaced, leaning harder on the door, crossing his ankles. He dropped his head down against his shoulder and groaned.

"We'll see you then at breakfast."

"Yes, yes, breakfast, good," Crowley said, closing the door and locking it again. He thumped his head against the door in his embarrassment.

"So... The cat is out of the bag, huh?" Aziraphale tried sheepishly.

He stood up and walked over to Crowley, laying his hands on the slender shoulders.

"Are you alright dearest? Would you prefer that I sneak out nonetheless?"

"Definitely not." Crowley leaned back into Aziraphale's touch. He was still warm from the bedding and something solid. "Not unless you want to," he amended. He wouldn't trap Aziraphale in an uncomfortable situation.

“No, I think I’ll carry the burden of embarrassment together with you. And there’s a promise of breakfast, how can I say ‘no’ to that?” 

As Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale, already smiling at the sight, he glanced down and tugged on the shirt. 

"I think this one's yours?" Crowley wrapped his arms around himself and hummed. "Smells like you. I almost want to keep it."

Aziraphale chuckled and pulled his half naked husband closer by his waist, kissing his forehead.

“It is, and you look just adorable in it. I would let you keep it, but I’m afraid I’m not able to wear one of yours in return and coming home in only my vest might raise some questions.”

The mental image of Gabriel’s face in that case was very amusing indeed. The reactions of his parents? Not so much. 

“You know what I think, love? That breakfast can wait five more minutes and that you shouldn’t stand around here practically naked. It’s a bit drafty in here, isn’t it?”

With that, Aziraphale hoisted Crowley up, hooking one arm under his knees and the other around his back. Crowley had to hide himself against Aziraphale for a moment to maintain some pride, but the with the windows open, it was plainly visible he was blushing. Aziraphale was surprisingly strong, carrying him back to the bed to indulge in some more cuddling before they had to face the world outside of their little bubble.


	11. A Guiding Hand

None could be certain it was exactly five minutes or ten or even inching on to fifteen before they had some fill of cuddling and kissing in the bed, with dreamt promises of what their marriage bed would be. Though some practiced separate rooms when they could afford it, Crowley decided he would like to come to bed with Aziraphale every night and stoke a fire for him and worship his body. He even teased to do so now, but the threat of another knock on the door seemed to keep his hands above the waist. 

He did eventually relinquish Aziraphale's shirt again and let him dress while he plucked up the same clothes from yesterday—it seemed fair, is all—and quickly brushed his hair over by the desk, leaving it loose for the morning. Aziraphale’s shirt now smelled like a mix of them both and it was still warm. It was a small comfort for the fact that he had to put everything on again. 

Crowley almost put on riding boots as well, since he had them, but decided on his usual slippers and made himself useful by helping Aziraphale lace his own up, kissing his knee again, his thigh, and just once at the button flap of his trousers.

The very clear love and affection bloomed brighter and it still made Aziraphale blush and his chest tight with so, so much love when Crowley doted on his boots. He made a little stifled gasp when that cheeky bastard kissed his flap.

“Oh stop that or we won’t be able to set one foot out of this room today. God forbid who they’ll send then. Maybe your brother?”

Aziraphale made a face at the thought before he cupped Crowley’s face in both hands and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the now well known lips.

“I think we should get a wiggle on and head downstairs, darling.”

Crowley popped up after the kiss, biting his lip. He enjoyed the gasp as much as flustering Aziraphale with the simple act of putting on his shoes. When they stood together, he immediately took his hand and led him down the stairs and through the kitchen.

They were later than Crowley's usual time. His cousin Beatrice and Uncle were already gone and Lillian was finally down to eat. Mr. Starbright had taken his breakfast to his study to worry over some recent news he had just barely started to divulge in Crowley the day before. Hastur hadn't joined them. They assumed he had taken breakfast early with his cousin and left soon after. The Stabrbrights were not accustomed to all eating together except at dinners.

"Hello, Mother," Crowley said warmly as they entered the dining room. He only let go of Aziraphale's hand to go over and hold her shoulders while he kissed her cheek.

"You slept in," Mrs. Starbright said with a smile, stretching up to accept his kiss. 

Lillian Starbright had long hair and sharp dark eyes, her features half a mix of Mr. Stabrbright that would make up Crowley. Mr. Starbright had shocking white hair that he also kept a little longer and always tied neatly at the nape of his neck, but Mrs. Starbright liked to keep her curls loose as often as possible. 

"And Mr. Fell. So glad to see you've joined us as well." 

Aziraphale froze for a second when he saw the mistress of the house sitting there at the table but Crowley’s calm and unbothered behavior was reassuring enough. He waited at a polite distance, only coming closer when he was addressed.

"You can call him Aziraphale," Crowley said, smiling into her hand where she patted his cheek.

Aziraphale flushed a little pink at her words. No, she couldn’t know as well, could she? Maybe Crowley had a far better relationship with his mother than Aziraphale did and told her about their...relationship? It felt impossible to think.

Well, he had to push the overthinking out of the way and think of his manners.

Aziraphale bowed and took her hand up. 

“Mrs. Starbright, thank you for having me.” He placed a brief kiss on her knuckles and straightened again with a warm smile. “And it would be a pleasure if you used my first name. You ahm...have a beautiful estate. Crowley showed me around your gardens yesterday.”

It was a shame to lie but it wasn’t too bad. He  _ had _ seen some of their property, especially the little grove...

Crowley blushed at the mention of the gardens, going to take a seat. There was already a full plate of hard-boiled eggs, toast, a kettle of tea, sugar, and bacon. 

"Well, they are lovely gardens. Did Crowley tell you what happened to the poor gardener? Hopefully we'll get him replaced, but I think Crowley has secretly found a hobby he enjoys."

"Mother...." he said in good nature, taking toast for himself and smiling sheepishly up at Aziraphale, who was offered the seat opposite Crowley and next to her. Aziraphale took the seat and went for tea first. Of course he offered to pour some for Mrs. Starbright and Crowley first.

"He mentioned an argument between Hastur and the gardener, yes, but I have to say that there's a wild-romantic feeling to it, in the state that it is now. I prefer such gardens over the stark french style, personally."

Aziraphale put the kettle down and started to fill his plate. He was quite near, sitting right beside Crowley's mother - should he call her his mother in law now? Better not - but he tried very hard to not let it show and just be his polite socializing self that was reserved for guests and formal meetings. It did not feel so awfully dreadful, at least, with strangers meant to dance the evening away.

"I saw some of the plants he tends to, they're lush and beautiful,” Aziraphale continued. “He's got a green thumb, really."

Aziraphale smiled slyly over his cup while taking a sip, noting Crowley’s attempts to deflect any compliment.

"I'm sorry that I didn't make a courtesy call to you earlier, but it was already quite late and we lost ourselves a little in a heated debate..."

It was Crowley's turn to choke into his tea.

"I'm sorry to hear you had some issues. I'm hoping you've mended your friendship, as you both seem so amicable this morning coming in," Mrs. Starbright answered. She leaned closer to Aziraphale. "I do hope we can put all this stupid rivalry between our families to rest. I thought we had such great fun at your estate the other day and I would like a chance to repeat such occasions."

"I do hope so as well, it was delightful and I had the feeling all were enjoying themselves. My mother would love to see you again soon, actually.”

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale, hidden a little behind his cup.

Mrs. Starbright touched Aziraphale's hand. "My, perhaps my eyes are failing me, but that does look familiar," she said softly as she touched the ring. "Are you wed, then, Mr... Aziraphale? I hope we're not keeping you from your betrothed."   
“Well, I don’t….” Aziraphale could feel his cheeks betraying him, heating up at the discovery of the ring. Hopefully she wouldn’t see the one on Crowley’s finger either. “Oh. Um...I…."

"Mama," Crowley said softly, dropping even more of his manners in the comfort of their home. "It's alright. Let the poor man eat."

“It’s very pretty,” Lillian continued sweetly.

"I….” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Let's say it's a token of deep affections that are, thankfully, reciprocated. And don't worry, you're not keeping me from anyone important."

He smiled, quite bashful and tried to concentrate on his toast. He didn't dare to take a glance in Crowley's direction. He would give everything away with one look.

Crowley should hide his face, as his mother could read him a mile off, but he just grinned behind his cup, watching Aziraphale across the table.

Mrs. Starbright did the polite thing, which was pat her son's hand as well and return to eating while they discussed the morning and eventually on to local politics and gossip. She had a natural ability to make her son laugh and blush in the short breadth of a second, but was warm and welcoming to bring Aziraphale easily into the conversation. What had started as something a little awkward turned out to be a very pleasant breakfast in wonderful company. The best thing was to see Crowley so carefree and open. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart and he wondered if there would be a chance to ever tell the truth to Mrs. Starbright sooner than later. Would she be as understanding and caring about them like she was now? Aziraphale hoped so.

From time to time, Aziraphale dared to bump his foot against Crowley's under the table. It could have been seen as an accidental thing, instead of the need to get some physical contact.

"I must say, Mrs. Starbright, I now see where Crowley's charm comes from. It's really a delight to be in your company. Our families should have tried this years ago."

He was having such a good time that he almost forgot about the fact that he soon had to return home. Otherwise his family would be worried. Aziraphale sighed at that dull prospect.

"I wish I could sit here with you for the rest of this late morning but I'm afraid that I have to depart soon. My stay here was spontaneous and my family might get worried if I keep absent any longer..."

He glanced over to Crowley. He wanted to get as much out of their time as possible.

"Of course. I would not want to worry your family," Mrs. Starbright answered, sitting back in her chair with a happy sigh. "I think I might go sit in the parlor for a bit. I'm almost done with that lilies piece I started earlier."

Crowley tried to hide his disappointment that Aziraphale would go, but understood it had to happen eventually. He smiled at his mother and told her the embroidery was going to look wonderful before he stood. 

"At least let me escort you back to your horse and make sure he's alright," he said, and bowed to his mother to kiss her cheek again. "I'll catch up with you later, Mama."

"I know you will," she said and, again, gave his cheek a little friendly pat.

Crowley held his hand out for Aziraphale and realized he meant to hold his hand, so tried to make it look like a gesture of showing him out before he tucked it neatly into the small of his back. His mother would not care, right? Or she might. The anxiety of the unknown twisted strangely inside him and he was unprepared to test it yet.

"Thank you for your hospitality. I would love to see one of your pieces, next time."

Aziraphale smiled, bowed and turned to leave. He almost took the offered hand on a reflex but caught himself before he could act. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, Aziraphale turned to Crowley, cupping his cheek.

"I'm so sorry. You know I would love to stay but they'll be worried back home. Is everything alright? You seem so tense now…. Was it something I said?"

Maybe he'd gone a little too far with his teasing comments? Or he should have thought about the ring, taking it off before they ventured downwards. He really wanted to stay here with Crowley and discover more about each other, comfort and care for each other. He had sworn his love to him last night; how could he just part with him already?

Crowley glanced around quickly before he held Aziraphale's hand on his cheek and leaned in, kissing him quickly. Well...a little longer than quickly, now that their lips touched. The kiss dissipated his worries and Aziraphale melted against him.

"You were fantastic. You  _ are _ fantastic. I wish you could stay as well. Or I could go with you. I  _ could _ go with you. If you want to try the same ploy with your family?" he asked hopefully, also feeling that terrible sting of the encroaching departure.

"That's a fine idea. We could always say we're deepening our new found friendship. But... are you sure you're not 'needed' here? Like yesterday, when your father called for you?" He brushed a small strand behind Crowley's ear, lingering at the spot. "I  _ want _ you to come with me, don't think I have anything else on my mind right now, but maybe you should tell your mother first. Oh and...we would have to ride, right? You're aware of that?"

Crowley's shoulders fell and he dropped his head. "Of course. On a horse no doubt." He groaned and worked his hands up into Aziraphale's coat, pulling himself closer.

“On Lazarus.”

“Who doesn’t like me.”   
“He just doesn’t know you yet,” said Aziraphale. 

"I want you to stay."

Aziraphale chuckled and sighed and planted little lovely kisses like dainty flowers to take root along Crowley’s neck until the young Starbright was smiling too.

"Alright,” Crowley consented. “Alright. I'm sure I need to speak with my father about something. Where the hell is Hastur to take the brunt of this, I just don't know." Crowley rolled his eyes and pulled himself up only to look down and see his ring, playing with it briefly. "And I'll talk to my mother. And I need to bribe Shadwell and Florence." He shook his head. "They wouldn't say anything anyways, but, they're good people. I don't mind bribing them in the least."

"Oh to have our liabilities.” Aziraphale chuckled, looking down at the ring as well, his eyebrows crinkling. “And really dear, the riding is what puts you off the most?"

Aziraphale laughed and hugged Crowley around the waist, leaning their foreheads together.

"Remind me to bring them something as well, next time. I have to say, I'm glad somehow that they know. Two people we do not need to act around at least. And easier for me to sneak in and meet my husband." Aziraphale beamed at him with the last words, angling his head to steal another kiss.

"Oh, Angel." Crowley moaned against his lips, tightening his hold a little. "How in the hell am I supposed to let my husband go now, hmm?"

They stole a few more minutes before one of them - both of them? - reclaimed their senses and Crowley finally led Aziraphale to the stable, overcoming his usual trepidations and actually coming into the barn with  _ his husband _ to help him get to his horse. Aziraphale actually managed to saddle Lazarus between many more distracting kisses. The horse was not amused and started to gently nibble on its owner's shoulder.

"Hey…. Hey! That's something reserved for  _ him _ ." Aziraphale giggled and shoved Lazarus away. "Well. Right. I'll see you soon, love, I promise. Maybe we can manage that you'll come over to mine tomorrow. You could send a letter over today to plant the seed." 

Aziraphale heaved himself up onto Lazarus, who was starting to trot in place to show his annoyance. 

"Now, would you behave, for just a moment! Good." After Aziraphale scolded his horse, then bend down a little to place a kiss on Crowley's head. "I promise, I'll see you as soon as possible. I love you."

And with that Aziraphale finally departed. 

-

The ride home felt like it took forever. He was traveling exactly the opposite direction he desired and Aziraphale was greeted with the sight of Oscar at the stables. The sight of him was far from pleasant, but at least it didn’t dampen the overwhelming love he had stored in himself for Crowley.

"Officer Baxter.” Aziraphale’s voice was playful with the prospect of good news. “You're already leaving?"

"Yes. Thought I should join your brother and shouldn't elongate my stay here. Officer Evans is leaving too."

He sounded quite meek and Aziraphale felt even better.

"Than I hope you'll have safe travels. Greetings to Michael and a good day!"

He handed Lazarus reins over to one of the stable boys and strolled up to the house, his strides wide and light. Tracy caught him on his way up to his room, holding him by the arm.

"Say, Aziraphale, you're quite late! Your mother and brother are out in town. Had a nice stay at the Starbrights’ home?"

His smile was so wide, his cheeks started to hurt.

"It was perfect. Forgot the time entirely. I guess I'll visit more often now. Maybe Crowley will join us tomorrow, so it would be nice to have a guest room ready!"

Tracy grinned and pinched his cheek.

"Right, a guest room. And I'm gonna lay out some extra sheets for you then, the night is awfully chilly at the moment. Now go up and change, you lovesick fool. And after that, I demand a full report!"

-

Crowley was chased out the barn after his husband rode off by the goats. He tried to be nice to them, but it was easier just to make his escape. 

Up at the house, Shadwell was at his post and gave Crowley a discerning wink and nod before the common gesture for the bottle.

"Yes, yes. Nosey old man," Crowley sniped, avoiding a playful slap to his rump as he went back inside.

His father was still hiding and his brother was supposedly still sleeping, so Crowley did his best to check up on his mother. Lillian was sitting primly in the parlor, as she had said she would be, the sunlight highlighting her in her chair. She looked quite elegant, even with her hair loose as it was, and had her embroidery set out in front of her, finishing the last french knots. Crowley took to the couch, flopping onto it with a contented sigh, his hand resting on his chest.

"He seems nice."

"He is, Mama." Crowley combed out his hair against the pillow behind his head. "And he likes you."

"Well, that's good. Should I expect him to be calling me 'mother' soon?"

Crowley choked on his spit, sitting up, but Lillian just looked unperturbed. 

"You think I wouldn't recognize that ring on his finger. I see he gave you one to match." 

Crowley looked down at his hand and covered it quickly, holding it tight to his chest.

Lillian finally set the embroidery down and went over to him, holding his bright red face. 

"I like him, Little Crow. And he makes you happy." She kissed his forehead as he grumbled, but ultimately accepted her affection.

"You think Father will approve."

"Oh, Lord no," she answered through a laugh. "But only because he's a Fell. And what does that matter?"

##  **-**

Aziraphale had changed and went down to join Tracy in the kitchen. The latter was already awaiting him eagerly, a plate with little pastries ready (maybe as a bribe, that was absolutely not needed). He was so happy that he almost told her everything, expect the spicy details of course, even though she tried very hard to get them out of him. He even showed her the ring.

Tracy gasped and took his hand to look at it closer.

“What a development! First you tried everything possible to not get married and now you promised it to a man after one passionate afternoon. I didn’t think that you were capable of such things. You surprise me, dearie! In every good way, you know. I always thought that a little adventure would be good for you.”

“Tracy, please! It wasn’t something out of a passionate whim. Well...it was, kind of, but…. Oh, we love each other. Not the ‘we danced once and I’ve fallen for you’ kind of love, either, you must believe me. This is something serious and deep and...and...”

He was quite red and nibbling on a macaroon, trying to find words to describe it.

Tracy helped him out.

“You’re a goner, I understand,” she said with a contented sigh. “He is a handsome young man, I can say that. But maybe you shouldn’t wear his ring around here. Your parents might get the wrong idea and making a fuss.”

Aziraphale looked at his hand and sighed. She was right, if they would see him with a ring, they might get their hopes up, thinking he was secretly engaged to one of the many ladies he had to meet. They’d pester him for a chance to meet her and ask about children.

He was still deep in thought, fiddling with the ring when Mrs. Tracy disappeared with a “wait here, love.” Aziraphale used the short break to eat some more macaroons but Mrs. Tracy was back quite quickly with something shiny in her hand.

“Well now, the medallion I used to wear is broken anyways and it matches the color. Take it, lovey. So you can wear it under your shirt all the time, closer to your heart.”

She handed him a delicate silver chain and Aziraphale couldn’t help but kiss her for the kind gesture. He slid the ring from his finger - oh, what strange empty feeling was this - and slid the ring on the chain. Mrs. Tracy closed it for him.

He used the rest of the day to walk about, whistling, helping some staff and reading out on the patio. His father, when he left the study just once, was very confused about his extreme good mood and when his mother and brother returned from their trip to town, Gabriel suspected something he couldn’t quite voice.

He approached him outside, while Aziraphale was reading Samuel Taylor Coledridge, playing absentmindedly with the feather he still used as a bookmark.

“So.” Gabriel’s brief introduction startled Aziraphale out of his thoughts. His brother tried so hard to sound uninterested, but Aziraphale knew something was up with him. “How was your visit at the Starbrights’ estate?”

“It was wonderful. And yes, it’s what your thinking. No, I won’t stop it.”

He didn’t even look up from his book right away, waiting in the silence for Gabriel to break it. When he didn’t, Aziraphale finally turned to see Gabriel frowning at his youngest brother. “Don’t give me that. Father already has you to succeed. Michael has a successful military career in the military and both of you are more than capable to provide an heir.”

“Aziraphale.”

“Let me have my bookshop and somebody who truly cares for me.”

“He….” Gabriel closed his eyes and shook his head. “Well. I suppose you have a point there. So...you’re courting this Crowley then?

Aziraphale snorted. “Courting...yes....”

“Has...erm, has he ever mentioned something his cousin may have said in a conversation...?”

-

Cousin Beatrice and her father were almost at the end of their visit and were going to be returning to their home at the end of the month.

Crowley wasn't sure if he was sad to see his cousin go or not. He was wandering around, keeping himself occupied by munching an apple and about to go out to the garden when he almost ran fully into Beatrice who had, again, stolen some of his clothes. He wondered if he might not just gift her half his wardrobe to stop the farce of her sneaking into his room to take what she desired. Maybe it would stop her from stealing his favorite waistcoat.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, wiping a bit of soot off his own shirt she was wearing. "Were you in the  _ chimney? _ "

"Like hell I was," Beatrice answered, shoving Crowley towards the wall to get past him. "Can I take these home with me? Mother never let me buy anything like and now Father doesn’t like to linger at any of the tailors to get new clothing."

"If I say 'no,' are you going to break my arm or something?"

"I could," Bea teased with a grin, taking his apple out of hand and stealing a big, greedy bite. 

"Ugh, keep it." Bea was trying to hand him the apple back. "Yeah, and the clothes. It's fine."

Bea shrugged and continued with her stolen snack. She walked past him, another friendly familial shove into the wall. Crowley thumped and cursed her with a smile.

-

Aziraphale was surprised that Gabriel didn't seem to bother too much about his taste in a partner. Instead, he was trying to get some information about Beatrice, which was quite amusing. Aziraphale had never seen him interested in another person. He was almost convinced he wouldn’t fancy anyone and pick whomever was most convenient for the family, do his duties, and find happiness in providing.

"You see, I wanted to invite Crowley over tomorrow, maybe to even stay the night.” Aziraphale laughed at the little shocked look on Gabriel’s face, but pressed on. “So. I  _ could _ ask for Beatrice's attendance as well."

Gabriel's face lit up but he tried to suppress it right away. He failed.

"Yes. Well, that would be a very nice gesture and all. I could also bring her home, I mean, if her staying over would be too much or...."

Aziraphale sighed and closed his book. Gabriel was making it impossible to remain aloof to the conversation anyhow. Not that he was usually as such to Gabriel, folding under the pressure of his brother’s shadow. Crowley’s involvement just...made Aziraphale  _ bolder _ .

"Crowley would be her chaperon but sure, if she wouldn't like to stay. That would be a nice offer. I can send a letter right away for the both of us, if you like."

Gabriel eagerly agreed on it and managed to get a fast courier to deliver it.

Aziraphale was just happy at the prospect to see his husband again as soon as possible. Gabriel and Bea would be occupied and they could bask in each other's company as well, though that was not exactly Aziraphale’s chief concern.

Aziraphale spent the rest of the day dreaming about that ethereal future in London.

Sleep didn't come as easy to him that night though. The bed was so empty and cold in comparison to his last night with Crowley. But the memories of it helped him to get a little more relaxed. He couldn't wait to hold him again.

-

When the courier arrived, Crowley was indeed out in the garden.  _ Thank God, _ he mused. His husband was as eager to have him back. And...with a guest?

He snorted a laugh and brought the invitation to Beatrice, who read it once and asked "Gabriel?" before she tossed the letter back and lounged with her borrowed shoes up on the couch until Crowley knocked them off. It was agreed they would head over tomorrow together.

He told his mother, who folded the lily embroidery up, which she had stitched to a silk kerchief, as a gift for Mrs. Fell. 

"Thank you, Mama. She's going to love it."

Crowley agreed that the night was restless and cold and dreary. He roamed his room and left it to go drink with Shadwell for a bit and then lounge in the library, listening to him butcher old classics and laugh until he fell asleep. Shadwell tucked a blanket around him after he almost threw his back out trying to pick him up and carry him to bed, cursing the young man and his back and at the walls and the carpet until he trudged off the bed.

-

The next morning came crawling in tenaciously and Aziraphale was disappointed to find the space beside him empty. In that wonderful state of vague consciousness before fully awakening, he could feel the presence of another warm and lithe bode beside him, smell that endearing and unique scent. When he slowly opened his eyes he thought to see a flash of red, but there was nothing beside him, only his own hand resting near his pillow, his ring gleaming in the low light

Aziraphale found Gabriel in the kitchen as well when he went down, uncharacteristically early. So he wasn't the only one impatient here. They both tried to occupy their time before an answer or even guests arrived. Aziraphale left the kitchen only to reorganize some library shelves with his father. He had to do  _ something _ , otherwise he would be sitting at the window, the anticipation killing him slowly.

He really was needy, wasn't he? But how could he not? It was like love had opened the bottomless pit of his heart, never sated until they could be together.

##  **-**

Crowley crawled down to his kitchen a little later than usual, looking barely put together and holding his aching head. 

"Shadwell? I curse you. I curse you, I—"

"Best be quick, because I already laid a few upon you last night, laddie."

Crowley groaned as he sank into his seat and cradled his skull against the table.

The morning was not going as easy as he had hoped. The hope being a bright start, a fast breakfast, and taking off immediately to the Fell estate to see if he could sneak back up the same tree as before and wake Aziraphale up with the morning sun.

He had completely forgotten his agreement to bring Beatrice with him, who waited in the corner with a bowl of porridge and a novel in hand. 

"You look like shit, dear cousin," she quipped as her hello.

Crowley lifted his head to stare daggers at her until one of the more sure-footed servants happened upon them and he snagged their arm. 

"Sorry. Could you get this to a courier and over to the Fell estate?" 

It was a short letter that read:

> _ Dearest- _
> 
> _ I'm a tit. Drank away the evening with Shadwell, must recover to be even half presentable. Beatrice and I will be coming by this afternoon. Scold me should I even glance upon a bottle if it is not to be shared with you. _
> 
> _ Deepest love- _
> 
> _ Yours. _

After a short visit outside to a bush to empty out the contents of breakfast he had just enjoyed, Crowley eventually went upstairs and put himself together. He picked his sharpest outfit, sleek dark red with a little lacy accent of black velvet brocade along the cuffs and a slightly higher collar. He almost had himself buttoned up when he felt sick again and braced himself over his desk.

The suit was uncomfortable to move in. He hated it instantly in the moment and shed it.

He decided on a nice heavy black jacket with easy buttons and put his mother's gift for Constanze in his pocket. Today was a tie-the-hair-back day for convenience. He needed to get a vanity mirror in here at some point. That would help.

"I thought you'd finally just perished," Beatrice said from the hallway. She adjusted Crowley's glasses for him and stepped back with an appraising eye before she shrugged and headed down the hall, ready to depart when he was. Soon. Soon, surely.

-

Seeing the courier arrive let Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat. He rushed down to get the note before Gabriel had a chance to snatch it again. He read it fast, blinking in disbelief and reading it again.

"Oh Crowley..."

He didn't know if he should feel a little cross or amused. It happened to be the latter most of all. So, Crowley didn't sleep much as well last night. It made something in his chest go incredibly warm, thinking that both of them had been lying awake for hours, thinking of each other. Well, and then drink the rest of the night away with one of your servants.

Aziraphale informed Gabriel , who had been spending the majority of the morning in front of the vanity. He still had some time to worry about his appearance, even if Gabriel always looked immaculate.

Now, with a set time for their guests arrival, Aziraphale informed his parents. His mother, Constanze, was thrilled about the new development between the families. She asked about Lillian a lot and Aziraphale figured that it must have been quite a long time since his mother had the opportunity to really make a friend.

His Father was pleased about the whole development as well and even complimented Aziraphale for his idea to bring them closer together.

"I have to admit, I may have been stuck on old rivalry and prejudice. Sure, the Starbrights might be a little... _ progressive _ in their way of doing things, but it's not too bad at all. You showed unexpected farsight in this, my son. Never thought you had that in you!"

His father patted Aziraphale’s shoulder a little too hard, but it was alright. Praise from Mr. Fell was rare, even tainted with a little insult.

"Too bad that both sides only managed to have sons, huh? A marriage between our families would be a good strategic move."

"Oh yes. Definitely.” Aziraphale had to bite on his lip to suppress a dumb and lovesick smile. Oh, if he knew. His hand landed on his chest, feeling the ring pressing gently into his warm skin. “Too bad…. But we still can find a way to cooperate together, I'm certain."

The rest of the day was slow and at one point, Aziraphale even considered to take a nap to pass the time. He wanted to touch Crowley again so bad, just holding his dictate hand, kissing the knuckles... Oh dear, he got carried away. Would he ever be able to make it until the afternoon?

-

The ride was strangely quiet. It's not that Crowley did not have anything to talk to his cousin about, but generally it was Hastur and Beatrice who hefted more of the verbal load. 

They hadn't seen any sign of his brother going on a day and a half now, come to think of it. Not that he was worried; Hastur could be out with his secret beau.

Except, just before they arrived, when Crowley was almost lulled to sleep by the uneven sway of the carriage, Beatrice finally asked, "What do you think of Gabriel?"

Crowley startled, hugging his arms a little tighter around his chest. 

"Gabriel? S'he's...s'pose he's fine. ...If you like him?"

Beatrice smacked his shoulder but wouldn't speak of it further. Strange, when she started the conversation, but Beatrice was always strange. He supposed he loved his cousin, in a way, and settled back as they approached the Fells drive.

Finally,  _ finally _ , one of the servants announced the arrival of a carriage and Azirphale -who had started to reorganize his own book collection- tried to hurry out of his room without looking too desperate. At least he was in good company, since Gabriel was leaving the study in something like a power walk to join him in the hall. Both gave each other a side glance and went outside to give their guests a welcome befitting their status. They were standing side by side, watching the carriage driving to the front where they were waiting.

“So, give them a welcome, lead them in and then I would suggest that you and Crowley make an excuse to...go to the library or something.”

Aziraphale was quite shocked. What a scandalous suggestion from his brother, to be alone with a woman! He never thought that he was able to bend the rules for his own enjoyment. Maybe the Starbrights and their extended family were quite an influence to all of them. If for better or worse was the question here.

As the carriage finally stopped, Gabriel was the first to open the small door and extending a hand to help Beatrice out of it. Beatrice took the hand and squeezed it, hopping out of the carriage with his help before clapping her hands together. 

"Hello again," she said and jokingly poked his chest. Gabriel beamed at Beatrice, with that smile reserved for business meetings. 

“Welcome, Miss Mouche.”

“Miss Mouche,” Beatrice repeated and rolled her eyes. “Right. And what fun marbles are you going to show off today?"

“Yes. Uh, Well. I thought about the gardens, since it was too late the last time we met.” Gabriel turned to address Aziraphale, who was not paying any attention to them at the present, too busy smiling at Crowley. 

Crowley slithered out after her only to go to Aziraphale and immediately grab his hands, kissing his knuckles in haste before he dropped them again. "Aziraphale!" he said warmly, his back to Beatrice and Gabriel. "So good to see you again."

"Like you do not see him yesterday," Beatrice teased over her shoulder. Crowley simply ignored her, something they were both very good at.

“Would you two join us?” Gabriel asked pointedly, with Aziraphale smiling at Crowley, blushing a little at this open display of affection.

“Good to see you again too,” he whispered fondly. “You look...unwell.”

Crowley was paler than usual and he was a little unsteady all in all. Aziraphale was reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, looking a little concerned. Gabriel only cleared his throat audibly, watching shameless romantic nonsense with a frown. Really, they should detain themselves out here in the open.

“I said,” Gabriel repeated, “would you join us venturing to the gardens?”

“Mhh? Oh, yes. That.” Aziraphale snapped out of his haze, looking over to his brother a tad sheepishly. “Uh, I don’t think so. Crowley here looks like he needs a little rest. Why don’t you go ahead. We’ll join eventually.” He turned to Crowley, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Is that alright for for you?”

He was about to protest about how he enjoyed looking at the gardens and how Aziraphale was lovely but didn't need to dote, even if he loved being doted upon. But he glanced over and could have sworn he saw fire coming off his dear cousin's face, orbs of them around the eyes, and quickly closed his mouth. He moaned and touched his stomach instead.

"Terribly sorry to miss an opportunity to see your gardens, but I am afraid the drive over did not settle my stomach as I had hoped. Please forgive me." 

Crowley bowed slightly to Gabriel and nodded just a little at Aziraphale. With that settled, Beatrice took Gabriel's arm to chaperone her around. 

"Very good. Excuse my cousin, he has no temperament for the outdoors." 

Crowley again felt the need to protest, but decided Bea was on the warpath and to let her claim her unspoken prize.

"Show me around, Mr. Fell. I would like to see," Beatrice continued, already tugging Gabriel away from the other two.

“As you wish. I hope you’ll feel better soon, Crawley.”

Gabriel was more than happy to get so much attention right away and didn’t even notice his slip. Aziraphlae was glaring after him and turned back to his quite more interesting lover.

“Please don’t mind him, he was fussing around with his hair more than you do all morning and changed like three times.” Aziraphale couldn’t help a little amused smile and brushed Crowley’s cheek. “You really don’t look too good, too much brandy, mhh?”

Drinking the night away with Shadwell and getting so hungover was absolutely Crowley’s own fault and Aziraphale could picture it vividly.

“Let’s get you in and lay down a little.” Aziraphale leaned in to add, “On my lap for an instance. And then you’ll tell me what the hell you’ve been doing all night with old Shadwell, won’t you?”

Crowley blushed, which hopefully added color to his face again. 

"Let me begin with my sincerest apologies." He took Aziraphale's hand as soon as they were alone. "And I promise you, I only changed my outfit twice. Also, Bea wouldn't let me sleep on the ride over because she is a terror."

“So she’s a perfect match for Gabriel then.” 

Crowley grinned and pulled him a little closer, nuzzling against his side. Aziraphale was still very amused about this whole ordeal, even though it had cost both of them some of their precious time. He just couldn’t be mad.

"Oh!" Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out the silk kerchief with the lily embroidery. "My mother made this for your mother."

“Oh, how nice! You should bring it to her right away. See it as a little punishment for over drinking.”

"You're a terror too!" Crowley teased back, though it felt right. Aziraphale pecked Crowley on the cheek and pulled him along to the salon, where Constanze was playing the piano.

“Mother? We have visitors. You remember Crowley from the dinner?”

Mrs. Fell stopped playing and turned around to look at the guest. She smiled, something that was a mix of the corporate one Gabriel sported and the softer one Azirphale used in private. Her hair was a dark brown, neatly arranged in thin plaits that had been tugged up.

“Of course I do.” Constanze stood up and walked over, presenting her hand. “You’re Mr. Starbright. I’m pleased to see you again. How’s your mother?”

Crowley tugged on his shirt in hopes of being presentable enough. He cleared his throat and bowed before he took Constanze Fell's hand and kissed it daintily. 

"A pleasure, Mrs. Fell. My mother is well and asks after you. I think she was quite taken with you at the last invitation and has sent a gift with me."

He took out the kerchief again and laid it out on his hand to show off the delicate and very neat embroidery in soft lilac and white and green threads. He glanced over at Aziraphale, but his gaze was thankfully hidden by his sunglasses.

“My, this is outright gorgeous! And she did this for me? Oh, tell her that I’m touched by this gift and that...you know what, I’ll write her. I guess you and your cousin will stay the night, so you may take the letter with you tomorrow.”

Contanze beamed, a closer resemblance to Aziraphale now, and took the delicate gift, pressing it to her chest. Aziraphlae smiled and gave Crowley a little side nod, showing him his approval.

“Yes, absolutely. Mother, Crowley here didn’t feel too well on the ride so I offered him to rest a bit. I’ll bring him to his room right away and you can see to your letter?”

She patted her son’s cheek - not as tenderly as Crowley’s mother would do it for him - and nodded a little.

“Of course. Of course. If you need anything, my dear, just let us know. I hope you’ll feel better soon so you can enjoy your stay.”

Aziraphle ushered Crowley out of the Salon, taking a deep breath when they were ascending the stairs. Crowley worried he did look a mess when Aziraphale led them away. Was he coming down with something? He thought not. But...maybe?

“So, everything official is done. Now it’s time to really relax.”

He was leading Crowley past the guest rooms and back to his own, the way already known to Crowley. As soon as the door closed behind him, Azirpahale crowded him against it, kissing him with a hint of desperation.

Back amongst the familiar heady smell that was quintessentially his husband, Crowley swooned as he was wrapped up in it again, which certainly helped him cling to Aziraphale and kiss him back. At first it was surprised, pulling back, but he was quick to press in and attempt to translate his consuming desire.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but moan when Crowley answered the kiss. It was a herculean effort to break it but he didn’t want to come off as a greedy beast. He leaned against the others forehead, eyes still closed.

“Pardon me, but I really needed this.” Aziraphale chuckled and opened his eyes, almost going cross-eyed at this nonexistent distance. “And I had to get that gift thing out of the way first. It would have bugged me otherwise. Do you want to lay down, love?”

Crowley's fingers immediately found their way up to Aziraphale's jacket and pulled him close again, ensuring every inch of his front was united with Aziraphale's.

"With you? Because if not, I'd rather follow you around to whatever it is you want to do," he whispered, still watching Aziraphale's lips.

Aziraphale swallowed, his throat bobbing with the effort to keep his words, his thoughts, decent.

“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing,” Aziraphale answered quietly, nearly breathless, walking backwards and pulling Crowley with him until he felt his mattress pressing against the inside of his knees. Crowley continued to press him to sit down and even went so far as to straddle his legs, his hands wandering instantly to Aziraphale's hair.

Crowley had no opinions on propriety or keeping himself in check. He was a wanting man and the source of his affections was in hand. He did what he must and leaned in for a searing kiss while pressing him to the bedding. 

There. In bed. Laying down. He had done as asked and he took his reward from Aziraphale's delicious flesh. Aziraphlae sighed into the kiss, his hands roaming over the expanse of Crowley’s back. One hand ventured down to that cute little bum and grabbed what it could reach.

The fact that Crowley hadn’t done anything like this until they met was making its way to Aziraphale’s consciousness and he didn’t know if he should be proud or ashamed now. Maybe a mix of both. He had thought he should take it slow with Crowley, not pushing too much into the physical aspect, but now he was straddled by his beautiful husband a second time in less than one day, getting his brain snogged out. 

He wouldn’t complain.

He could complain. He might complain.

He might complain when Crowley yanked up his shirt to get to his skin, worming freezing fingers up onto his tummy. It was meant to be igniting passion but ohhh Aziraphale was so warm and he moaned into Crowley’s mouth as his waifish husband stole heat from him.

“Someone needs to be warmed up properly, huh? I read once that this works best with skin to skin contact....”

Aziraphale slid his hands back and bum to Crowley’s front, feeling up his chest, wandering to his throat and loosening his cravat. While his hands were occupied with that, he leaned in again, gently taking that pliant lower lip before him between his teeth. Crowley moaned as Aziraphale captured his bottom lip, arching against him.

"No, no," he answered, smiling when he pulled his lip loose. His protest was that Aziraphale was pulling the cravat wrong and it was about to pinch his neck. While he sat back, Crowley hooked his fingers into the waistband of Aziraphale's slacks and pecked along his cheek, down to nuzzle his neck. "I need you. Need to bury myself right here." He breathed deeply, pressing his legs in against Aziraphale. " _ Perfect. _ Oh, you heal me, darling. Precisely what I need."

This was a little confusing and Azirpahale was lost for a moment. He pulled his hands from Crowley’s neck and settled them on his back again, just hugging him closer to keep him warm. He had been feeling unwell before so if warmth was what he actually needed, Azirpahale would give him that. The press of his surprisingly strong legs was a little distracting.

“We could slip under the sheets if you want. Would be warmer....”

He buried his nose in the silky locks.

"Wouldn't want to sully your sheets," Crowley whispered with a soft, damp gasp, still nuzzling Aziraphale's cheek. "We'd need to remove our shoes. Our clothes."

Crowley tugged slightly at Aziraphale's pants as though to say  _ get these off and let me at what you have in here. _ He chuckled, returning to kiss him heatedly.

"What do you think, hmm? What can I do for you? I missed you," he admitted with a happy sigh. "And I want you again. Think me greedy, but I'll be happy for cuddles and kisses too, if that's all you want.

“I though that’s what  _ you  _ wanted.”

“Oh?”

“Oh? You were saying ‘no,’” Aziraphale explained.    
“Oh.” Crowley pulled back and laughed, wiping his blushing face. “No, sorry. You were...here.” And he showed Aziraphale his neck, where he was tugging, and finally slipped his fingers down the knot, starting to unwind it more. “You were going to choke me. I mean, I don’t know if I’m really ready for anything rough yet, but if you really wanted...I wasn’t sure. Sorry.”

Aziraphlae looked at Crowley like he hung the moon, cupping his cheeks and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. The next thing that could be heard was the sound of shoes falling to the ground. He pulled back, his breath a tad more heavy.

“I’m a terrible influence, aren’t I?” Aziraphale whispered, yanking hard at his own clothes, finally onboard with Crowley’s desires. “Lord help me, I want you as well, always. You think you’re greedy? What do you think I did to fall asleep?” Aziraphlae kissed him again, slower this time, pressing against Crowley’s body wherever they touched, like he might melt into his skin. “I missed you too, so much. Just do whatever you want to. I’m at your mercy here.”

“You...don’t want to be choked, though. Right?” 

Crowley winced, only for Aziraphale to pause long enough to hold his face, staring up at him with clear, storm-gray eyes.

“I’m at your mercy,” Aziraphale repeated gently.

Crowley kicked off his short shoes while he matched his kisses at each measure, lost in the sweet divinity of love. His hands were not bogged down by such numbing effects. They roamed away from the waistband and back up Aziraphale's shirt while his hips rolled back in to meet him, to seek him out. This was such sweet torture, the slide of Crowley’s hips against Aziraphale coaxed a needy sound out of Aziraphale, a pleasing sound in any measure. 

Crowley felt how stupid the question was even as it escaped him innocently, planting the words near Aziraphale's eyelids. 

"What did you do to go to sleep last night?"

Aziraphale managed to turn slightly pink when asked for his late night activities, despite everything they had been doing so far.

“I touched myself,” Aziraphale answered haltingly. “Thinking about you. About what we’ve done up on that hill. How our bodies...fit together. The tiny sounds you made. The way it feels when your fingers brush my skin....”

Aziraphale pulled at the damn cravat again, now hanging in loose loops around Crowley’s throat. He wanted to get to that long neck and taste Crowley there. Oh, how he wished to get naked in an instant, just with a thought.

Crowley's eyes went wide behind his sunglasses and his grin grew suddenly, eager and sharp. 

"You got off to the thought of us, did you?" 

It was such a gentle, loving ribbing and he pulled his head back to help Aziraphale toss away the cravat. The man could undo trousers and vests, but he had no finesse with a scarf around the neck. Crowley loved him even more for it.

"I love the sound of that,” Crowley continued. He pushed himself up, which drove his hips harder against his husband. He’d get into those pants as soon as he could. “Keep telling me. How did you start? Were you sweet and gentle with yourself?" 

Oh, Aziraphale could feel him, even through the wool. It was a welcomed distraction from the request of telling in detail what he'd done last night. Aziraphale was actually flustered, which was unnerving. They were making out, again and he felt bashful about touching himself. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

"I started with just feeling myself up through the trousers, thinking of you.... _ undoing _ them. I opened every button, one by one, before sliding in and brushing my fingers up to the head…."

Aziraphale was burning up. This was embarrassing and thrilling at the same time. When the cravat was gone completely, he buried his face in Crowley's neck, placing open mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach, with the occasional bite here and there. Crowley breathed out his desires when Aziraphale latched onto to the hot flesh of his neck.

Crowley scooted back, trying to remain at a steep angle so Aziraphale could remain on his neck. He needed Aziraphale there. He wanted him and that was one in the same, want and need.

But Crowley needed to get back enough to undo the front of Aziraphale’s slacks, plucking at them blindly. He was getting better at it. Before he opened the flap, he pressed his hand flat against Aziraphale and sought out the delectable shape. Then he snuck his fingers inside and brushed along the length until he got to the head.

"Tell me more," Crowley whispered, turning his cheek down to steal a kiss. "Guide me. Tell me how you did it."

That cheeky little bastard. So that was what he was up to.

Aziraphale moaned into the hot flesh under his lips, pressing in to stifle it. He tried to chase the finger, needing more, so much more.

"I, ah... slid back down, taking myself in a loose grip and... sliding my fist up and down s-s-several times...."

He sucked Crowley's earlobe in between his lips and nibbled softly. Everything to keep those needy noises in.

Crowley pushed his hand back down to curl around the shaft. He grunted a little, shifting up again so Aziraphale was flush against his wrist. It made it easier to stroke him, considering he hadn't removed those trousers. 

"Indeed. Down," Crowley whispered, and dragged his hand down, "and back up? Several times, was it?" He leaned in closer for Aziraphale to nip his earlobe. He liked that. Oh, he definitely liked that. 

Aziraphale whimpered and bucked his hips into the wonderful hand encircling him. One hand landed on the back of Crowley’s neck to have something to hold onto and pull him closer when needed. Crowley stroked Aziraphale more, losing himself in the tender sensations, until he stopped. 

"I'm getting ahead of myself, I'm certain. Tell us the next part. You need to."

Aziraphale was quite red now, panting as he replayed his wanking in his head again.

"Nnhhhh…. I...I used my thumb, spreading everything across the tip. Imagining it would be your tongue…. And... And after that I gripped...I gripped myself harder. Bucking up into it. Nh, thinking I would get sucked...sucked off,  _ Crowley _ ."

"Later, love. I promise." He dragged his nose up and down Aziraphale's, enjoying the simple brush of skin. "After we see to it your fantasy is played through."

Crowley loved how flustered Aziraphale was getting and ever so grateful he was even talking through it. It was a task Crowley would find impossible and yet something he would find incredible to challenge for Aziraphale, if he wanted.

But this was not about Crowley, even if his own need was bumping against Aziraphale’s hip with every careful stroke.

Right. Up to the head. He rubbed his thumb, feeling a nice bead of precum to smear across the slit, tugging down the neck and back up to smear some more. He tapped it so gently, a little "lick" of his thumb, then closed his fist and stroked him again with a little squeeze like he was swallowing.

In fact Crowley did swallow, just thinking of it.

Aziraphale whimpered even more, his fingers dug into the skin of Crowley’s neck. It was so intense, even a little mortifying, but in what could only be the best possible fashion. He moaned right into Crowley's ear.

"Kept. Kept on stroking. Slow and firm. I...I didn't want it to end too s…. Too. Soon. Oh God, Crowley, please. Please, love."

Aziraphale wanted to feel that mouth again, everywhere. And he wanted to be naked, so so badly, his clothes felt like they would suffocate him and he craved to feel the slide of Crowley’s skin against his. 

He wasn't sure if he should add the little detail of  _ the other _ thing he'd done. Better not.

"Please? Sweet husband, is my hand not currently upon you?" 

Hearing that title in this context  _ did things  _ to Aziraphale.

Crowley continued to stroke him then, as that was all he was told. He grinned more, closing his eyes at the slight sting of Aziraphale digging at his neck. Not that he wanted him to stop. If they really needed to hide any evidence, he'd just undo his hair and let it hang long. 

His glasses were unfortunately slipping and Crowley had to press his forehead to Aziraphale's, then deciding to hide the gesture by stealing kisses again. His favorite sin, he decided, a petty theft to accomplish again and again. And, he suspected, it helped keep Aziraphale quiet. Proven as Aziraphale kissed with more urgency, making all kinds of muffled sounds. He started to pull on Crowley's shirt, tugging it out of his slacks and scooting it up.

"Off. Take that off. I  _ need _ to feel you. Everywhere. Now!"

Crowley should have teased him further but Crowley obliged quickly, tearing the shirt off over his head, which meant he had to take his hands out of Aziraphale's trousers. He returned quickly to the safety of Aziraphale's arms.

"You are quite demanding," Crowley whispered. 

"And you are quite a tease. And  _ clearly _ enjoying it."

"Guilty. What else can I do for you?"

The loss of contact and friction in his pants was unpleasant but Aziraphale knew that far better things would come soon and he finally felt Crowley's slightly cooler skin on his own. He bit his lip at the thought.

"How about freeing me from this confinement." Aziraphale gestured down his crotch and legs. "And getting that pretty mouth of yours on me after all?"

Only the thought of been taken into Crowley’s mouth again made Aziraphale’s prick twitch. 

"You cheat," Crowley answered with no heat. "Didn't let me get through your fantasy all the way. Feel like I'm missing something."

Crowley sighed dramatically as he slipped down back off the bed and stood firmly, grabbing Aziraphale's pants. He paused and lifted Aziraphale’s shirt briefly to kiss his belly before he removed Aziraphale’s trousers, tugging fast but mindful that they were not damaged in any way nor to hurt Aziraphale in his haste. He set them aside without folding them and went to his knees, braced right against the mattress, and squeezed Aziraphale's legs.

"Come here," Crowley whispered, already reaching and stroking him again.

Aziraphale obliged and scooted closer, giving a happy little wiggle. He propped himself up and reached for Crowley's glasses, taking them off and laying them on the bed beside him.

"They'll be in the way and I can finally admire your gorgeous eyes.” He smiled, but the nagging feeling in his guts wouldn’t go away. "There was one more thing but…” Aziraphale admitted and turned bright red so quickly, it was almost dizzying. “I think that's something for a different time."

Crowley opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to taste Aziraphale, staring up at him. But he paused.

"Wait, there  _ was _ something else? Will you tell me?" He grinned and blew a little across the tip. Aziraphale groaned in frustration, falling back on the mattress. He just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"Yes. Yes, yes, I will. Tell you. I do it sometimes…. We don't have the time for it right now."

Aziraphale glanced down at his husband's beautiful and curious face and knew that this wouldn't be enough.

_ Oh bugger _ .

"I, err... used my fingers. As well."

"Oh. I can use my fingers, love." Crowley leaned forward and grinned at himself. "I  _ was _ using my fingers. But now my tongue."

He felt clever to get the answer out of Aziraphale with nothing more than a look and a little smile. And if he didn't understand  _ how _ those fingers were used, it didn't cross his mind. He simply wrapped his lips around Aziraphale and sank down on him as he so clearly desired, moaning happily to provide.

Aziraphale had to bite his fist when the sensation of that hot and wet mouth washed over him, enticing a long and loud moan from his throat. He might not have been fully forthright with Crowley, but he could not care in the slightest at the moment. This would always be one of his favorite things to do, absolutely. He grabbed the sheets beneath his hands and arched his back, eyes shut and head lulling back.

" _ Pffff _ ...Crowley...more…."

_ More? _ Well, the least he could do was provide. Crowley beamed to know he had learned some of what his husband loved.

Crowley swallowed him up, hallowing his cheeks. He sank down to the hilt, moaning again when it hit the back of his throat and he swallowed, same as Aziraphale imagined before. He pulled up and kept his lips wrapped, licking the tip, smearing around with tongue and lips before he sank again. And up and down with a nice, easy rhythm that made him feel warm and loving as he continued to take him in and swallow.

Aziraphale keened, his toes curling on the edge of the bed and thighs trembling. He was twitching and fighting the urge to just buck up in to the maddening heat. How could Crowley be so good at this, it was only his second time? Blessed or cursed, it did not matter.

One of Aziraphale’s hands found its preferred spot on Crowley's head, tugging lightly at the hair after some time to signal him to stop.

"I... _ hnn _ , as outrageously good as it is...I don't want it to end already. I...I want us to finish together. Please?"

Crowley almost chased down on him despite the tug, but Aziraphale looked wrecked and beautiful and he always seemed to ask so sweetly. 

And, besides, he didn't have his own kerchief to wipe his mouth when Aziraphale finished. Still hadn't figured out actually swallowing his release yet.

And it would be so much warmer up on the bed....

Crowley pulled off, a little trail of saliva from his tongue connecting him back to Aziraphale's erection. The sight between his legs was so much, Aziraphale had to close his eyes for a second to not come undone already. Then Crowley kissed the head once more before he scrambled back up onto the bed and into Aziraphale’s lap.

And what a sight Crowley was when he sat on his lap again, shirtless and his lips red, glistening and lightly swollen. Oh by God, he wanted to make this perfect being come undone in every possible way to piece him back together afterwards. 

His hands wandered up from Crowley’s hips, over his abdomen, the flat belly and chest. 

_ Mine. All mine. And I’m all his. _

Aziraphale’s hands hooked behind Crowley’s neck to softly pull him down into a long and slow kiss, lavishing him with far too much tongue. The fact that he tasted himself was exiting, like the first time. 

Aziraphale grabbed both buttocks now, massaging the taut flesh and pressing them together. Crowley never thought he had much meat on his bones for Aziraphale to grab, and yet Aziraphale found it, sure enough. He smiled, even through kissing, until he got too enamored exploring Aziraphale's mouth. 

A distraction presented itself when Aziraphale could feel Crowley hard against his thigh and the thrill of anticipation started to rise. After he’d stolen every drop of bitter goodness from Crowley’s mouth, Aziraphale tried to roll them over. When he tried to do so, Crowley's first instinct was to cling and set them upright again in fear he was tipping over from too much snogging. Can't get away from him that easily. 

But, when it was apparent that it was intentional, Crowley complied and held onto him, giggling quietly against his neck as they moved.

Aziraphale sat up eventually and got rid of his shirt for good now. The chain with the ring on it dangled from his neck when he moved to place kisses from Crowley’s cheeks down to his neck and the chest. His fingers were already working on the buttons of his breeches. When he had them open, he pulled them down slowly in one go, absentmindedly licked his lips, like a feast spread before him.

“Mhhh so many ideas. Do you think you can stand a little experimentation?”

"You want me...to stand?"

Crowley was distracted by being undressed and reached up to touch the ring dangling from Aziraphale's chest. He supposed it must be awkward to wear it around the house and now seeing it so intimately attached where it hung above his heart made Crowley's stomach flutter in a way be didn't know how to explain.

"Sorry. Experimentation." Crowley blinked and cleared his head, reaching up to hold Aziraphale's arms. "Yes, absolutely I am. What do you have in mind?"

Aziraphale chuckled; his husband was too adorable sometimes.

“You don’t have to move, really. I could show you what I’ve done last night with my fingers.”

“Fingers?” Oh the fingers! So he hadn't guessed it right.

“But it’s a little more invasive and you can always say no. But let me get you a little riled up first....”

He bent down and placed a hard kiss on one of the very sensitive spots under the hip bone. Crowley smiled right until he saw what Aziraphale was doing and gasped just before he kissed that spot, tensing.

Once again, it was almost akin to a tickle, but somehow better, and frankly easier to handle. Even easier that it wasn't his thumb screwing into the nerves and setting his whole body aflame.

Crowley arched into the kiss and gripped his own hair for a nice tactile dissonance. He placed the other, palm flat, onto Aziraphale's hair and carded through the curls. 

"Will you tell me?" he whispered as he settled back into the bedding, one heel stuck around Aziraphale's waist to tug him in closer. "Do you want me to suck on your fingers?"

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks. That was a very nice suggestion, actually.

“Yes. But let me get something first.”

He let go of Crowley to lean over to his nightstand and searched for something in the drawer. He came back with a familiar vial, laying it beside them for now. Crowley definitely recognized the bottle. The memory on the hill swept over him and he was already swelling to attention, eager for a chance to repeat themselves.

“So, where were we? Ah yes, sucking on fingers....”

Aziraphale propped himself up on one elbow and brought his other hand up and brushed his fingers tentatively over the soft lips before pushing in slightly, watching every move. Aziraphale's fingers were slightly salty and perfectly plump as they entered Crowley's mouth. It was enough to tear Crowley’s his eyes away from the oil and back up to stare at his husband. One or two quick laps of his tongue before he closed his eyes happily and moaned ever so softly while he sucked and pulled Aziraphale's fingers into his mouth.

Aziraphale wished he could freeze this picture before him so he could look at it whenever he wanted to. This was somehow more obscene than Crowley sucking him off. He started to press his fingers against the hot tongue before withdrawing them almost completely and then suddenly pushing them back in, slowly. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now. Such a vision...”

Aziraphale pumped his fingers a little harder in and out. Crowley leaned into challenge of Aziraphale pushing faster. He gripped Aziraphale’s wrist, not to impede him, but simply to have something to hold on to. 

But sucking on his fingers? Crowley could agree. It was almost filthier than sucking his cock. The simple admission from Aziraphale made him only more eager, happy to please and to take.

And he moaned. He still kept it soft and quiet. They were in Aziraphale's family home  _ in the afternoon.  _ But, yes, yes, Crowley  _ moaned _ .

The sounds sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine. His eyes were half closed, mesmerized by the whole ordeal. Until, finally, Aziraphale tugged and let them slip loose, dragging over Crowley’s chin and used those now wet fingers to take Crowley in hand, starting to stroke him in a firm grip while latching quickly onto his neck. He kept that pace until Crowley was hard and heavy in his hand, enough to be tingly and a little on the edge but not enough to trip over it.

“Still want me to try the finger thing?”

Which was bloody unfair, leaving someone like that and whispering questions into his ear. Of course, Aziraphale had been left in such a state. Pure torture for both, apparently.

Crowley hummed, rubbing his cheek against Aziraphale's cheek and ear like a cat looking for pets. 

"Mmhmm. Wanna know what you're talking about, love," he answered, trying to keep the needy little rasp out of his voice, but he was already here. He figured he could sound a  _ little _ needy. So he went so far as to buck his hips up towards Aziraphale in anticipation.

The motion was actually courteous. Aziraphale let his hand slip from Crowley's cock, down over his balls and even further. His touch was soft and not too fast. He studied the others face to not miss the slightest sign of discomfort.

He pressed a little more over the perineum.

Oh.

_ Ohhhhhh. _

Crowley blushed hard as he fixed his arms over Aziraphale's shoulders. His hips bucked again of their own accord and he clenched in sudden anticipation. But he kept his eyes on Aziraphale's, breathing a little faster and biting his lip up to keep himself from asking what he really wanted, which was, "Aziraphale, did you  _ finger yourself _ last night to the  _ thought of me? _ What is that even like?"

But he didn't. Instead, he did his best to relax his legs instead of clamping them tightly together.

Aziraphale pulled back once again, but it was the last time now for sure. He grabbed the vial, popped it open and poured some of the oil in his hand. He coated the fingers of his other hand thoroughly; better safe than sorry.

Aziraphale was actually nervous. He had only done this to himself before but the basics were the same, weren't they? And he couldn't show his insecurity too much now, or he would worry Crowley in the worst case.

"Whenever you want me to stop, you must tell me."

Aziraphale scooted down to kneel properly between long legs, spreading them a little farther apart. Oh what a  _ view _ . 

But no time for that; he had to concentrate on the matter hand.

Aziraphale let his finger slip over the perineum again, leaving a trail of oil until his middle finger slid between Crowley's cheeks, brushing lightly over his opening and pressing just a tad bit.

The little oil drip made Crowley shiver when it rolled down. Maybe it made him shiver. It could be he was just a trembling mess. Possibly for good reason? This was his first time! With...okay, with  _ this _ . And Aziraphale had already been with him for so many firsts, and he wanted to be there with all of his firsts.

Even just the one finger, Crowley hiccuped a little sound and clenched again before he settled.

_ Well, now,  _ that's  _ different. _

Not a bad different either. Crowley was just nervous and giddy and trusted Aziraphale to press in further, if he wanted. He wanted, right? Or was Crowley bad at this or was he unclean or something? He dropped his head to the pillow to hide his expressions a little. Just needed to stay out of his head.

Which made Aziraphale hesitate for a moment. Was this too much? Crowley would certainly say something if it was, wouldn't he? He must trust Crowley would, but Aziraphale rubbed his unoccupied hand soothingly over Crowley's thigh, his finger remained at the same place to soothe him.

"Crowley...? Love, are you.. Is this alright?"

"Mmhmm!" His voice squeaked. He rubbed his forehead and reached for Aziraphale, grabbing his wrist again. "I'm okay, Angel. Promise." He smiled back at him again and rubbed the inside of his wrist. "Show me. What you do to yourself. I wanna know."

Right. He had to be the reassuring one here.

Aziraphale’s finger started to move again, now rubbing more than pressing to get Crowley used to the sensation. When he felt the muscles relaxing a little more, he started to press again. 

They kept on this for a while, feeling the tight muscle relax and getting a little deeper every time until Aziraphale’s finger slid in and out with more ease. He was still watching Crowley intently the whole time. It felt like an accomplishment of sorts to take a whole finger. Crowley grinned, beaming. Maybe he had learned it through osmosis with his time with Aziraphale.

The entire time, however, Crowley could not not let go of Aziraphale's wrist. It felt like a comfort, like he was participating, even when this was being done to him. And, he could tug and make Aziraphale move faster, which was indeed beginning to feel good. Feel better than just good. 

It wasn't long before he was almost grinding down on Aziraphale's hand, pulling a little more.

"That feels... so good, actually. Can. Can you do more?" He looked down his body at Aziraphale, his eyebrows hooked in a needy, inquisitive stare. As though to ask  _ is that alright? Is that wrong? _

Well, this was a nice development. 

The request hit right down between Aziraphale’s leg, reminding him that he was still quite hard and wanting. 

“As you wish, my dear.”

Aziraphale complied with the request and added his index finger, maintaining the former pace for a moment to let him accommodate to the new sensation and stretch. As Crowley relaxed again, Aziraphale started searching for that certain spot, curious what Crowley’s reaction would be. He didn’t have to search for too long though, when his fingers brushed over that bundle of nerves, pressing against it.

“Ah, there you are...”

It was almost as bad as pressing into Crowley’s hip. Scratch that, it was more intense than pressing into that spot on his hip.

Crowley arched again and gripped Aziraphale's wrist tight enough to get him to stop moving, to accept and recover and understand the sensation. 

Now  _ that _ felt good. 

Crowley had bitten his mouth shut again and breathed heavily through his nose, sinking down. His hands migrated completely back to the pillow and he rolled his hips down to chase the feeling again.

_ You've ruined me, love. I'll need you forever and ever and I need to do this to you immediately, _ Crowley thought. 

What he said, despite everything, was a very soft, breathy, "Please.  _ Please, _ Angel."

Aziraphale bent over to kiss Crowley, giving him something grounding before he started to move his hand again. Now that he'd found his prostate, Aziraphale made sure to brush it with every thrust possible.

"You're doing great, love. Taking it so well."

Aziraphale could hear his voice getting breathy. Giving this to Crowley was as arousing as receiving and his thought of getting off together was dismissed and replaced with the wish to bring his husband as much pleasure as humanly possibly for him. He wanted to see the rapture on Crowley's face, watching him falling apart.

"That's what I did last night, imagining that this?" Aziraphale gave a harder thrust with his hand. "That this was you, buried deep inside me. The thought alone was almost enough…."

Aziraphale leaned back down, placing some kisses on his belly and taking Crowley's cock in hand.

There was no earthly way Crowley was to last like this. Or survive it. Doubly so if he had to stay quiet, which was a personal hang up that he was not sure how to unknot and was not about to explore until they had their own home and they could terrorize the neighbors. Crowley took out vengeance on his hands, biting the sides while he shifted erratically down on Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale did this to himself? Needy, whimpering, spreading himself. To  _ himself? _ To the thought of Crow— 

The thought alone catapulted him to the edge and two more well placed strokes against his prostate ended whatever restraint Crowley had. He tossed back and came with an almost violent need, spurting up and across his naked chest. Immediately oversensitive to fingers in places and around places and needed Aziraphale up to hold him together or he was likely to escape this mortal realm in stardust. It was beautiful. Breathtaking even. If this was the effect of just fingering Crowley, how would it be if they….

No, best not think of that right now.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the swollen need between his legs, but Aziraphale pushed it aside nonetheless and got up on the side, pulling Crowley flush against him. He was a trembling mess and Aziraphale kissed his cheeks and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he came down.

"I love you. You've done so well, darling, so good. Breathe for me, please"

"I'm.” Crowley’s lungs inflated quickly, and he swallowed twice before he could continue. “I’m. A mess," he whispered, rubbing up against Aziraphale to feel all of him and transfer some of the tingly energy in all his limbs across to his wonderful lover. 

"You're  _ my _ mess," Aziraphale whispered back, full of love.

Crowley curled in tight. It felt nice to just exist in the afterglow, to coil and let his mind go all bubbly and soupy. But he wasn't so completely gone as to, say, fall asleep and leave his lover unattended.

Even if he felt a little bit like one big lump of soft clay, Crowley traced his hand down Aziraphale's silky soft tummy and gripped him in hand, giving a short, gentle tug. 

"How can I help with this?" he whispered against Aziraphale, still slipping out little moans if he shifted just the right way and he made certain to place those moans tenderly against Aziraphale's cheek.

The sensation of Crowley’s fingers around his cock came as a pleasant surprise, accompanied by a gasp. The moans, the tiniest little sounds added to the building pressure in Aziraphale’s abdomen and he started roll his hips.

"Ah.. Just keep that up. I won't take long."

And he really wouldn't. The whole fingering business had riled him up. He was covering Crowley's hand on his cock at one point, stroking it with him.

The tandem effort was a blessing, since Crowley's grip was likely too weak. But, oh, he wanted to please! He wanted Aziraphale to get off and add to that sticky mess painted between them and to hold him and maybe lick some of it and cuddle him for the afternoon.

"Just like that, hm?" Now the attention was no longer on him, he found his tongue again. "Look at those gorgeous fingers. Those  _ tasty _ fingers. They're works of art they are. And you already feel so good against my hand." Crowley pressed his hips tight against Aziraphale's side, his spent cock caught against him and made him shake again. "So good, my love. My beautiful husband. My one and only. Think you should just come for me right now."

And he kissed Aziraphale fiercely.

Aziraphale was sure that he’d just created a monster. 

Like he had been waiting for Crowley’s permission, Aziraphlae came with little muffled moans, spilling over their joined hands and smearing it between them. It wasn’t as forceful as Crowley’s orgasm, but a long and drawn out thing. He kept on stroking until he was too sensitive, but scooting closer to his husband nonetheless. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered afterwards. “Thank you, love. That was much needed. Mhhhh...I think we should stay like this for the rest of the day.”

Aziraphale was still in the afterglow, not thinking of Beatrice and his brother or any other people outside of this bed. Instead, he kissed his husband lazily and brought their sullied joined hands up to inspect.

“Goodness, that’s....a lot.”

"Sorry," Crowley answered sheepishly, clenching his fingers already laced with Aziraphale's. "You looked so beautiful and you just kept milking it."

Crowley continued to watch their hands with his head resting on Aziraphale's shoulder. He could feel it. On their chests. On his stomach. Their hands. It truly was a mess and he was surprised that he  _ loved _ it. Felt accomplished and taken care of.

Still....

"Should I get something to clean it?" Crowley asked after a time, only for Aziraphale to laugh and kiss his forehead.

" _ You _ are my guest and therefore I'll get us something to clean up."

Aziraphale untangled their joined fingers and slipped off the bed, still a little unsteady on his legs but nothing too worrisome. He got over to the vanity to fetch a cloth. When he came back to the bed, he gently pushed Crowley on his back and started to carefully clean him. He couldn't help but to sneak in some kissing while doing it.

"Quite impressive, my dear. Look, got it all the way up here."

Crowley hummed, hissing when Aziraphale scrubbed him, even when he was being so careful and caring. Then he was just waiting patiently and lazily on the bed, reaching for Aziraphale with a whine.

"You're just very potent. Think of all the little illegitimate heirs we could sire." Crowley grinned, holding Aziraphale's spot. "It's a very good thing we're married, Angel. We're protecting the world from a wave of little children with rosy cheeks and fuzzy blonde hair." He yawned and hummed a laugh, his eyes suddenly heavy, unfocused. "Cute little angels running around. With bad eye sight."

Aziraphale snorted and took care of himself before laying down and pulling Crowley up to his chest again. He covered them both with the blanket right away this time, so neither would get cold.

"Oh I can see them clearly before my mind's eye. Some with red curls, some blond with amber eyes..."

Aziraphale chuckled again and nuzzled into Crowley's hair.

"....I'm sorry that I can't wear the ring on my finger around here,” Aziraphale said after a moment of quiet. “I would love to, but it would only raise the most unpleasant questions. As soon as we're in London I swear it'll be on again, for everyone to see.” And then another contemplative hum before Aziraphale touched Crowley’s cheek. “Did your mother mention anything...? "

At the question, Crowley's went bright red. He had busied himself playing with the ring on the chain and looked up at Aziraphale quickly.

For a moment, he had toyed with whether or not he should do the same, to keep suspicions at bay. If course, he did not have a chain and he had simply moved it from his left hand to his right to help.

"She noticed," he admitted, tucking in to hide against Aziraphale's neck. "She said something...."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he felt concern seeping in. Surely, Crowley would have said something earlier if there would be trouble on the horizon, wouldn't he?

"... And. She said?" he asked tentatively, squeezing Crowley a tad bit more.

"She." Crowley sighed and kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "She guessed it right away. At breakfast. And she likes you very much. Can't believe she remembered that ring; thought I had taken it a long time ago." He snuggled in ever closer and wrapped him up. "But. Yeah. She knows. She knows and...." He was all flush from embarrassment, but at least still happy. "And she approves of you. Since you're such a nice man who makes me all happy and all."

"Approves of me?" Aziraphale laughed nervously but he could feel a warmth growing in his chest that made him giddy. "That's. Crowley, you scoundrel, I worried!”

Crowley chuckled and ducked him about to strike him playfully on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry!”

“As you should be.” Aziraphale settled and plastered his beloved once more with kisses. “I’m happy, you know. That she approves and I do hope that I'll live up to the expectations. You mean the world to me, and since both of you are so close this is such an honor."

All of this was too good to be true. Not only did they finally have each other, but there were people who actually supported this. If it would only be possible, he would officially marry him right away, seal everything in binding legal documents so nobody could take it away.

Aziraphale let his hands lazily wander over his husband's warm body, basking in the feeling of love and closeness.

"Since you're staying the night, we have to pretend that you sleep in the guest room. Or I can sneak up to you there later, provided that you're cousin isn't in the next room."

"Provided she hasn't snuck into Gabriel's room," Crowley added in the same tone, his eyes closed and head lolled lazily against Aziraphale's. "Where is your brother's room. Could he hear us? Later?"

Azirphale laughed at the thought of someone sneaking into Gabriel’s room at night. He was so prim and proper all of the time, it was hard to imagine. Maybe he would start a monologue about how inappropriate this was but Beatrice did not seem like someone who cared about that so much.

Crowley’s smile crept up again and he walked his fingers to find Aziraphale's, taking them up and lacing their fingers together again. That was all well and good but he wanted more and kissed them, right over the knuckles, and an extra on his naked ring finger.

Truly, having it on the chain did not upset Crowley at all. He wasn't stupid and understood this all came with certain risks and addendums. But, still. He was a romantic at heart and he damn well kissed the finger anyways. He imagined the vein that went from finger to heart. How that heartbeat pressed against his own. It was thrilling and calming, somehow.

“His room is farther up the corridor. Michael’s quarters are the ones closest to mine, but he’s not here, you know. Your room, by the way, would be closer to the study. Four doors down. And….”

Aziraphale paused. Perhaps it was the casual way that Crowley asked it, post coital, but the idea that Crowley might want  _ more _ tonight…? It seemed they were not able to keep their hands off each for five minutes. 

“Why do I feel we won’t be getting much sleep tonight?”

"I'm afraid not," Crowley answered, at least attempting to sound serious. Failing, of course, but the attempt was made all the same. "I never know when next I get to be just like this with you. I won't waste my opportunities on such frivolous things as sleep."

He freed his hand only to wrap up around Aziraphale, even bringing his knee up to cover and pin him. He sighed happily again. The only thing better would be if he could melt into him and curl up in the warmth of his soul.

Aziraphale sighed. He was right of course. They never knew what may be up next. As soon as the answer of the current shop owner arrived, he had to take a trip to London anyways. This could happen any day now, so it was only the logical thing to indulge in their intimate togetherness as much as possible.

"Maybe you should embrace the opportunity to rest a little. I'll wake you if anything happens. And I won't go anywhere. You're coiled up around me like a snake, so my escape would certainly go noticed."

“Did that on purpose,” Crowley answered, relaxing as Aziraphale tucked the blanket up around them and tightened his embrace soon after, which smoothed out any complaints or queries or teasing on Crowley, who was helpless to the simple pleasure of sleep. It would not be long until it was time for supper at the Fells, should the boys even want to partake after they’d already supped on each other.


	12. The Guest Bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, will there be angst? Maybe. At this point, who knows, huh? But first....more! passionate! Lovemaking!

Beatrice kept up with Gabriel every chance she had, and the gardens were a good excuse to both tease him and steal a kiss, almost man-handling him into the bushes. He may have said something about his hair, but another branch cracked under his back and though the snap was not a healthy sound, Gabriel moaned up into Beatrice’s mouth, clawing her into his lap. The two found their own ways to pass the afternoon in the gardens, far from any wandering eyes, until the chill of the late evening and a lantern on the end of a servant’s arm reminded them that there was a warm meal and wine waiting for them inside.

When it was time to wake from their impromptu nap, Crowley was sluggish. He was warm and happy that the idea of being awake and getting dressed was just as exhausting as hauling a giant boulder up a hill. He was against it and hid himself against Aziraphale until there was no choice but to get up and pretend to be a respectable human for a bit.

They must agree, the low lights were still too bright at the dinner table. Crowley withered into his shades and Beatrice pinched his arm to wake him up on three occasions.

It was a strange atmosphere at the dinner table. Mr. Fell was his usual grim self while Mrs. Fell tried to make conversation with the guests. They were seated opposite of each other, so that Crowley and Aziraphale faced one other as it was the same for Beatrice and Gabriel. Constanze's fierce attention was trained on young Beatrice.

"So. Miss Mouche, was it?” Beatrice looked up at Mrs. Fell and nodded politely enough. “Your visit here is almost over, as I recall? Do you already have plans for another? Maybe an elongated stay in the future?"

"I have already spoken with my father about another extended visit," Beatrice answered primly. "He thinks it would be nice to stay with my dear...sweet cousin." 

She turned a practiced smile on Crowley and he did the same to her, an almost sibling rivalry played out between them. They may not have been very close growing up, but Crowley had learned to tolerate his cousin and her eccentricities and it would be interesting if she did take an extended stay with them.

Aziraphale wanted to roll his eyes. He wondered if this would have been the same case if Crowley or himself were a potential subject for an “official” marriage. His mother even ignored the fact that Beatrice was wearing men's clothing for the chance to see her eldest paired off as society dictates.

There was no point dwelling on it, even if Aziraphale  _ wanted _ to. He glanced up from his plate to look at Crowley. Oh, he wished for this dinner to be over soon so they could curl up into one another again.

Crowley pushed most of his meal around and nibbled on the blanched vegetables, stealing little looks at Aziraphale and tracing little nonsense patterns on the table to pass the time.

The dinner dragged on, slow-moving as syrup. Constance tried to get as much information as possible out of the potential daughter-in-law and Aziraphale was already thinking hard of a plan to get them out of this, when Gabriel was actually the one to finally say something.

"Mother,” he began cordially enough. “I think that it's quite late already and Miss Mouche and Mr. Starbright might be a little weary. We, for our part, were outside the whole afternoon and I feel a little tired myself. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow morning, when everyone is well rested? "

He shot one of his best smiles at their mother. And it seemed a miracle, as Mr. Fell was suddenly agreeing from the head of the table.

"He's right Constanze. The poor girl might lose an ear if you keep that up. Let the youth retire already."

Aziraphale was more than surprised. Their father was dismissing them already? My, there must have been something going on behind the scenes. Aziraphale was actually intrigued.

Gabriel thanked them and they only had to endure the dessert before they could make their way back up. The four of them were ascending the stairs together.

"Well then,” Aziraphale said sheepishly, crowding in a bit closer to Crowley as they parted from Gabriel and Beatrice. “I guess it's time to show you your room." 

It was a farce, really. All of them knew that at the guests wouldn't stay at their rooms, but they had to keep the appearance up.

"Right.” Gabriel was offering his arm to Beatrice, a prime example of the unassuming gentleman. He played the part well. “If I may escort you to yours, Miss Mouche..."

Beatrice walked with him and let him lead, but she pushed up on to her tiptoes to reach his ear.   
“Which one is yours?” she whispered with a conspiratorial grin.

Crowley chuckled as they parted ways. He folded his hands neatly at the small of his back, following Aziraphale. 

"Ah, yes. My guest room. Where I will be sleeping so soundly, I’m sure," Crowley said quietly, smiling down at Aziraphale. 

Dinner had been, well, too long, but the meal had been good and Crowley was reinvigorated after finally waking from his little nap with Aziraphale. His hands were clasped because he would have held Aziraphale's hand all the way up the stairs **.** Aziraphale decided to play along for a little, his hands folded in front of himself, so that they only chanced to bump shoulders twice.

"The  _ soundest _ sleep, my dear friend. I hope it'll be to your liking." 

Aziraphale pursed his lips as to not laugh and came to a stop in front of the designated room. Gentleman that he was, he even opened the door for his guest. 

"I'll get back to my room quickly, follow up in about ten minutes, that should be safe." Aziraphale whispered with a bright grin. "You wouldn't like to run into Gabriel."

"No, surely not. That would be an embarrassment," Crowley whispered back, leaning in closer and touching his nose to Aziraphale's. He wished to grab him. He really did. But it was almost more excruciating to keep at a distance, a challenge of who should break first. "But I will check my pocket watch and if you aren't back in ten minutes, I suppose I'll come find you?"

_ Come find him? _

Aziraphale bit his lower lip. Why did that sound so indecent? No doubt because Crowley had indecent intents. The playful scoundrel. Was his appetite not wetted before? Except, of course, Aziraphale was the only one to blame for such a beast. That he had cracked open something in Crowley and unleashed it...well. He was always happy to be the recipient of such fierce devotion.

"I'm known to be very punctual,” Aziraphale answered, wrestling his thoughts under control. “So. No need to worry about  _ that _ .” Then Aziraphale raised his voice and it cost him almost every inch of self control not to lean in and kiss Crowley right there. “Good _ night _ , Mr. Starbright. Have yourself a good rest!"

Formalities aside, Aziraphale smiled to himself and turned on his heel, leaving Crowley wanting in the doorway of his guest bedroom.

Back in his own room, Aziraphale was pacing like an animal in a cage. He grabbed the vial - just in case - and his key. It would be safer to lock his room from the outside, so his absence could not be unveiled.

Only four minutes had passed.

Should he take some clothes with him? No, there must have been some for the guest as well. Maybe he should get rid of his damn cravat already. A smart choice, something to occupy himself and speed up future...activities. Blast him, but it was taking forever. Ten minutes was too long a wait!

Finally,  _ finally _ , the time arrived and Aziraphale had managed to remove said offensive cravat. He pocketed his items and snuck out his room as quietly as a mouse, closing the door and locking it ever so softly. When he was about to turn around, he was startled by a creaking floorboard and looked up to find himself facing a frozen figure. Too small to be Gabriel.

Ah.

"Down the corridor. Third on the right," Aziraphale whispered and turned around again, walking up to Crowley's door without checking if Beatrice followed his directions correctly or not. He didn't even knock, really, just slithered in as quickly as possible and closed the door behind him once more.

Crowley was laying in bed, down only to his shirtsleeves for the evening and his hair loose. He had even taken off his sunglasses already and set them on the table. He sat up quite primly and looked like he was about to leap up for the door. It was with some effort that he remained reclined.

Oh, what a sight to walk in to.

"You are  _ late _ ," he said and held up his pocket watch, the catch undone and the face open. "Almost thirty seconds over. Did something keep you, Angel?"

"I'm sorry, had to help  _ someone _ with directions."

Aziraphale hurried across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was too happy to wait and tease, and leaned in for an apologetic kiss.

"Really? He must have not explained them well enough."

Not that Crowley cared. He trusted his cousin to do whatever she pleased and reached for Aziraphale, putting Bea and Gabriel out of his mind as he pressed his lips to Aziraphale's.

"Come here," he purred against him, pulling him down to join him properly in bed.

Aziraphale giggled and let himself get dragged down willingly, immediately entwining Crowley's long legs with his own.

"What have I done to you, sweet fellow?" Aziraphale whispered with a smile before leaning back in for a long and lazy kiss.

"What have you done?" Crowley repeated against his mouth with a little inquisitive hum. He hugged Aziraphale closer. He enjoyed the soft, sensual kisses, the slow declarations they announced. "You love me," he answered and smiled. And then, just a moment later, with just a tiny hint of worry that he had indeed overstepped, "Right?"

Aziraphale's features softened immediately and he cupped Crowley's cheek, so he couldn't turn away.

"More than right. I love you with every fiber of my being and I'll ne’er be apart from you again. I asked you to be my husband after all." He kissed Crowley’s forehead, nose and then his lips. He wouldn’t let these insecurities linger when it could be helped.

“Then what have you done to me?” Crowley whispered. Surely, one could not help but to melt at the tenderness of Aziraphale's lips. Each one soothed away another inch of worry until Crowley was nothing more than an undignified goop trapped in the body of a human beneath his touch. But he had to know what the  _ hell  _ Aziraphale meant or it’d abcess in his mind somewhere.

"I was just referring to my bad influence again,” Aziraphale explained. “In regards to the carnal desires we share. But, you were right this afternoon. We have to make the best out ff the time we have together. It’s not a must, of course. I'm perfectly fine with just holding you close in my arms all night long, telling you how much you mean to me. Please, never feel obligated to do things you would regret later."

"I don't," Crowley whispered fondly. "Feel obligated, I mean. Quite the opposite. I feel...I feel like I've discovered nourishment for the first time and I'm afraid I'll starve." 

Crowley turned to follow wherever Aziraphale moved, like a snakehead charmed by the melodious flute.

"In fact, you must tell me if I'm being too much because I cannot help but be ignited the moment I see you." He nudged his nose against Aziraphale's cheek, below his ear, and into his neck, answering his touches with a warm hum. “I feel possessed.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief and angled his head to give Crowley more space to operate.

"Well, if you haven’t figured it out, I'm insatiable, my dear. There is nothing that could ever be deemed ‘too much’ when it comes to you.” He started to brush his fingers softly over Crowley’s sides, barely touching him. “The feeling is mutual, is what I mean. I would sink right into you if this could be possible. I want to be as close to you as possible. Feel you everywhere…”

"Yes," Crowley whispered hungrily. "Yes, yes, exactly that. That's how I feel." 

Crowley kissed Aziraphale's blessedly naked neck now, his shoulder, and even went so far as to bite the flesh there. Never hard enough to break or bruise, but more along the lines of a gag to hide his sounds, his passions, and leave them as little wet imprints on the skin.

Aziraphale gasped softly at the first bite and stretched his neck even more. No wonder Crowley liked this. The sensation was electric and sent a shiver down his spine.

He was grabbing the back of Crowley’s head, pressing him closer and tugging on the silken hair. God,  _ this mouth _ . How could someone do so much wonderful things with lips and teeth and tongue? Crowley could devour him and Aziraphale wouldn't mind. He would even welcome it.

Aziraphale started to rub their legs together and slipping one between Crowley's thighs. It was almost like playing with his feet beneath the table, something Crowley didn't practice nearly enough when they were at dinner earlier. Who knew a simple knee migrating up the length of his leg could cause a drop of molten lead to shiver down Crowley’s abdomen and settle like a burning focal point between his legs. Perhaps it was just the whispered promises and devotions that had started it. Must be. He was a sucker for admissions of love.

Still, words were pretty and settled so nicely, but now? Now. Now! Crowley wanted to rut forward and grind himself down on that knee, that leg. He tangled his own feet along with Aziraphale's, jutting his hips forward so slightly. He was like a drunkard, dragging his lips across Aziraphale's skin, finding purchase where he could to leave another little love bite.

"Harder,” Aziraphale moaned, the word slipping out without permission. “Bite harder,  _ please _ ."

To offer something in return for his request, Aziraphale nudged his leg up against Crowley, using his unoccupied hand to pull one leg up and closer for more friction.

By request and already mumbling happy things into his skin, Crowley sank his teeth a bit. He sucked there two, beginning to kiss and pull, alternating between the two. 

It came with a slightly more erratic roll of his hips and hands that grabbed to pull him closer, eager to please and to leave a nice red mark to his skin to look upon in the morning. He had to admit, seeing them on his past kissing partners made him feel devilish. He was certain that finding evidence upon Aziraphale would sing a sweet song in his mind. That, or drive him mad.

It was wonderful and Azirphale moaned unabashedly, unbidden, but it wasn’t enough. 

He pulled a little harder on Crowley’s hair to maneuver his head up into a heated and slightly desperate kiss. His hands pulled on the others shirt, tugging it out of his breeches and getting to that lovely skin.

Instead of sating his hunger for his husband, of course, it only augmented it, made him want to crawl into him if only possible. Aziraphale instead raked his nails over the torso underneath his finger, hoping to get some sweet sounds out of Crowley.

Crowley was a little shocked at Aziraphale's voracious needs, even after their conversation. He gasped, his torso jumping several times where his husband raked him, and truly did bite Aziraphale  _ hard _ to keep his mouth from betraying them both with a startled, deep-belly moan. He returned the favor by scraping his blunt fingernails, all chipped and chewed from anxiety, down Aziraphale’s back, catching on the wrinkles of his shirt. Crowley just managed to get his fingers back under and helped Aziraphale out of his shirt quickly, returning to him in an instant to add another bruise in the shape of his mouth closer to Aziraphale's neck this time. While his mouth was busy, he anchored his hands on Aziraphale's hips and grabbed him, pulling him as close as he could, trying his best to dissolve into him.

Azirphale bit his lip hard, otherwise he was sure that Gabriel and Bea would hear him on the other side of the corridor. His hands were wandering from the flat belly over to the back, his fingers squeezing in under the waistband to grab some skin there.

“We’re both still overdressed.”

"You're the expert," Crowley teased and tugged at his trousers. "Get these off. I need you. Please. Please, please, please." With each request, he managed to pepper a kiss to Aziraphale's skin, squeezing his legs a little tighter together.

Azirphale managed to laugh, pulling Crowley against him.

“I can’t! Were too close for that. I think we need to untangle, just for a moment.”

It was quite hard, for a myriad of reasons, but Aziraphale pulled away to fumble with the well known buttons. He wouldn’t have this for quite some time when he made business in London and the sheer thought hurt already.

Crowley managed to wriggle back some and just watched, his hands travelling to lightly hold Aziraphale's and feel what he was doing. It helped, in the dark, to keep a hold of him. He should have bothered with his own, but he couldn't think about his own needs right now. Nothing but that one, driving thought,  _ I want you I want you I want you. Take me, please! _ Which seemed too big and selfish and needy to contain. 

The moment Aziraphale's trousers undone, Crowley immediately began to help him take them off, moving swiftly to pull them away at the bottom and toss them from the bed for their own safety. Finally naked, Aziraphale reached for Crowley's shirt to get it out of the way. He made short work with the trousers as well, tossing both items off the bed and into the dark limbo.

Finally,  _ finally _ there was only skin, nothing left between them. Aziraphale reached out to run his fingers over Crowley's chest, feeling how it moved with every breath and the thrumming heartbeat underneath. He ducked his head to kiss along the collarbone and down to join his hands.

There was that feverish wave of goosebumps again. Crowley whined slightly through his nose, adoring every touch he gave. 

"Love.  _ Angel. _ Can I have you again? Please? Please? I want you in me, please." 

Crowley wanted to be in Aziraphale too, in every possible way, physical or otherwise and asking just even this was a damn strain for both his vocal cords and his own racing thoughts that he was asking too much and should give more and he was a louse for wanting so fiercely. 

Except Aziraphale wanted him too. He did. He said he did. He showed he did. God, he hoped.

Aziraphale made a sound that was, under normal circumstances reserved for sublime cuisine.

Just hearing this made him unbearably hard. Crowley was begging, pleading for it and Aziraphale wanted to give him anything possible. He gave his lover’s chest a last kiss and stood up, searching blindly for his vest.

"Just one second. I...bloody hell, where is it?"

There was more cursing and the rustling of clothing until a triumphant  _ ha! _ announced that he had found what he'd been searching for. Crowley sat up while Aziraphale searched and clutched some of the bedding up to his chest like a nervous maiden waiting before Aziraphale hurried back to the bed, kissing Crowley as an apology and pressing him into the cushions.

"My apologies, darling. Wouldn't work without it.” Aziraphale touched Crowley’s legs. “Now, make yourself comfortable and spread those wonderful long legs for me, would you?"

"I am comfortable," Crowley whispered, curled up too close to Aziraphale. He laughed, only guessing that Aziraphale had gone to retrieve that bottle of oil, the thought of which got things moving again in more ways that one. It was like the mere thought of it sent a twitch along them both, an exciting little zap of anticipation. 

So, Crowley laid back and spread his legs out as asked, hooking one of his heels into the small of Aziraphale's back as though to say  _ I'm right here and you're right here and neither is going anywhere right now. Also, I love you. And fuuuck, do I need you, darling. _

It was a well articulated heel.

How dearly, Aziraphale wanted to kiss every inch of this body until Crowley squirmed and whined under him, before even getting to what he had begged for. But Crowley was so  _ sensitive _ and every day they discovered something new.

Aziraphale opened the vial and coated his fingers thoroughly until they were practically dripping onto the bedding. He reached between Crowley’s legs, sliding over the perineum and down to his entrance, starting to open him up slowly. Aziraphale pressed kisses to Crowleys’ sharp jaw as a distraction as he pushed his first finger in.

They had a few hours between the first time they tried it, so at least he was somewhat expectant. With even a little practice, Crowley had a better idea on how to relax, how to shift his hips and let Aziraphale in. 

Aziraphale  _ was _ in. By the first digit of a finger. Not nearly enough, but it satiated that ache in his heart that demanded they unite down to the cell. 

Crowley stretched his neck for Aziraphale, panting softly towards the wall. He continued to trace tracks across Aziraphale's arm through the slow push into him. And, same as the first time, Aziraphale was looking out for any sign of discomfort while he moved the first finger. He waited until he could feel Crowley muscle’s loosen up before pulling out and back in with the second one. He was still so very tight. The thought of sinking in to him completely….

Aziraphale inhaled sharply and had to halt a moment to compose himself. Maybe Crowley wanted just his fingers again, which was fine, really. No need to get too riled up.

"Good?" he whispered against Crowley's neck.

"Mmhmm." Crowley stretched his neck again, giving Aziraphale more room, and wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulders. He dragged his lips up and tracked a small pattern over Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

"How many is that?" 

Had to be three. Was it three? Crowley was having a hard time keeping track and making himself relax and enjoy the moment, sinking into it, accepting him. Was it only two? Was it  _ four? _ And, even better...could it be more?

"Two." Aziraphale punctuated it with pressing into that sweet little spot briefly, which made Crowley jut his hips upwards, his mouth open for a silent moan. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

"Crowley.” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “Would you let me…?" How could he ask this? Except he was so needy himself, truly, and one had to try. Make an effort, at least. "Would you let me make love to you? Properly?"

Crowley almost groaned and tried to press himself down further to prove he could take it when Aziraphale paused and asked something. 

It skipped right over his brain the first time. 

The second time, the word "love" slapped him somewhere in the middle of his chest and he thought it was going to come out a sob.

"Yes," Crowley answered, and hooked his foot again around Aziraphale, practically bouncing on his slick fingers. There was a bloody  _ proper _ way to make love? He wanted it. Instantly! "Oh, yes. Please, Angel, please?" 

Aziraphale was relieved nearly instantly. Crowley's eagerness was so endearing, he wanted to make him see stars already.

"Patience is a virtue, dear. I have to prepare you properly or it won't be too pleasant."

Aziraphale had to say it out loud for himself than for Crowley’s sake. It was meant to to bring himself back to himself and not rush through this with fear he would and could hurt Crowley. So, he resumed his efforts and started scissoring his fingers, taking his time, and even managed to slowly push in a third. Aziraphale concentrated on  _ not _ hitting the prostate too often now. He didn't want to end this before he could show Crowley what his meaning of “proper” lovemaking could entail.

Crowley, on the other hand, was full of a nervous and excited energy that he constantly kept trying to grind down to get Aziraphale to hit that spot, that delicious  _ spot _ , as that had been such an eye opening experience last time. 

But the spreading. Now, that seemed to settle him some. Crowley gnawed at his lip, concentrating on the feeling, on Aziraphale's hands when he could not entirely see his face. They should have lit some lanterns. The pale glow of his lover was more a ghost than anything and he constantly kept reaching and holding and grabbing to make certain Aziraphale was real and there.

The third finger. Well, Crowley screwed his eyes shut tight and spread his legs further apart to help. 

"Angel?" he whispered shakily, now more focused on breathing. "Have you done this? To yourself? This much? And has...anyone else? Done this for you?"

Was Crowley just curious or were his insecurities taking over again? Whatever it was, Aziraphale brought his face up to Crowley's, brushing his nose along Crowley’s cheekbone and giving little kisses to show that he was here and listening. His fingers kept on working.

"Mhh, yes, I have. Though it's a bit of a hassle to get so much in alone. And...yes. But it's been years." He stretched up a little I kiss his husband's sweat-damp forehead. "And never with someone I loved before.    
Crowley sighed. 

It was...disappointing. He was having his first go at this whole "lovemaking properly" business or what have you, but Aziraphale had done it already. It put a stone in his stomach that was a stark contrasting cold to the heat prior. Not Aziraphale's fault. He was a beautiful lover and so tender, any should be lucky to have him. Best of all, Crowley had him. Crowley closed his eyes and held onto Aziraphale again, remembering he was loved. He loved. He loved so much.

“You’re alright?”   
“More than,” Crowley whispered back, finding it to be true after he said it.   
“You have to tell me if you're close, all right? I may have to stop for a moment then. I think it'll take a little more preparation until you can take me in. I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't think you will," Crowley whispered warmly. He kept breathing, as that helped. "I mean. I am. Close. But I want to hold on. I want you so badly," he whispered and sealed that proclamation with another kiss.

Aziraphale moaned. Just a little more and he could bury himself in that tight heat. He continued thrusting his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm before pulling them slowly out. He shuffled back and onto his knees, panting and rock hard.

He picked up the oil again and reached for one of Crowley’s hands.

"Can you help me out with oiling me up?"

Aziraphale guided the hand down between his legs to make his request clear.

Crowley was a bit sore, in the worn out sense and in no way did that mean he was ready to be done, but he groaned softly as he rolled up to feel exactly where Aziraphale wanted him, his other hand bracing on Aziraphale's shoulder so they didn't clunk their heads together.

The groan was also in appreciation to what he felt. 

"Of course," Crowley answered, holding the back of Aziraphale's head and kissing him. He almost missed and quickly realigned to hold Aziraphale steadfast, tasting him for a moment. "Of course," he repeated afterwards. "What can I do?"

Already, Crowley was lightly holding Aziraphale’s cock, the nice meaty weight of him. Crowley dragged his thumb across the length and down to the end, thumbing carefully over the slit. Aziraphlae hummed and leaned against Crowley’s forehead. He just had to last a little longer.

The vial was still in hand. Aziraphale opted for pouring some of the oil over Crowley’s fingers and his very needy cock.

“ _ Nnhhh _ . Spread it.  _ Please _ .”

Since it had been with them this whole time, the oil naturally warmed between them. Crowley smiled when he felt it begin to slick his hand. He started to move, to spread it around, to grip Aziraphale a little and stroke him while he did it.

"Will you tell me where you got that oil? I should think I should replace it for you. For  _ us. _ " Crowley hummed and licked his lips in consideration. "For  _ you, _ " he repeated, hoping his intent translated.

A small whimper escaped him and Azirphale gave in and pushed his hips up into the hand several times. Why was Crowley asking about the oil now? His head was too hazy to catch up right away. Oh, for  _ us _ . For  _ him _ ? Surely Crowley was referring to them doing this over and over again?

“It was a shop,” Aziraphale answered in halting breaths. “For cosmetic purposes. And such. I’m sorry, but I’m not in any state to recall it accurately right now when all I can think of is….” Aziraphale trailed off, turning his head so was brushing the shell of Crowley’s ear with his lips. “Shagging you until you fall apart in my arms.”

Aziraphale suddenly sat back up, letting his hands trail down from Crowley’s chest over his stomach and thighs, grabbing them softly and pulling him a little closer. 

Crowley yelped and laughed soon after, tucked into the safety of him. The prospect that Aziraphale was going to shag him? God, how tempting, how uncooth, how vile.

They loved each other entirely.

Crowley removed his hands, feeling Aziraphale was properly lubed and if he kept it up, Aziraphale might be the one to blow his top. Instead, he gripped Aziraphale’s face and kissed him firmly. 

"Show me," he whispered. "Show me, Angel. I'm ready."

Azirpahale bit his lip in anticipation and hooked an arm under one knee, lifting it a little. He scooted closer, holding himself steady in hand and lined up. Oh dear, this was really happening now.

He took one deep breath to ground himself and pressed in against Crowley.

“Oh... _ fuck. _ ”

"F _ uck _ ," Crowley repeated, and took a deep inhale, holding it in his chest. He had been prepped. He had not been  _ prepared. _

The growing fullness of it seemed to consume him. There was that initial sting, the slight burn that scattered to a previously unknown pleasure. Crowley jerked his leg slightly against Aziraphale's weight and then pulled right back in with hopes of keeping him close, to take all of him in. United, together, that sense of completeness. Crowley was tight. Tight and searing hot. Aziraphale, the poor thing, may melt when he sunk in further, but it was worth it.

Aziraphale pulled back a little and pushed back in, sinking in a little deeper every time. He was not sure how long it took him, but one more push and he was flush against Crowley, fully seated inside his lover. It was incredible. Overwhelming. He didn’t move, just panting into Crowley’s mouth.

For a moment, they were still. Perhaps breathing. Crowley  _ thinks _ he breathed back. He had to be breathing. He needed to breathe, that was it.

On that final push, Crowley gasped again. He wasn't sure if Aziraphale should move or just stay put and squeezed his eyes tight, so tight that a kaleidoscope of colors exploded behind his eyelids.

Before he got his heel behind Aziraphale again and tugged.

“Alright.” Aziraphale laughed, short, breathy, high pitched. “Alright, love. I...I’m going to move.”

Just in time. Aziraphale had to do something now, anything. He pulled almost completely out and pushed back in with a roll of his hips and a deep groan. Oh this was heaven and hell in one, sweet sweet torture. He repeated that motion once, twice, picking up the pace over time. He pressed his forehead against the side of Crowley’s face, panting directly in his ear.

Each thrust was this beautiful sort of agony that stretched him out. Crowley accidentally shouted on that first good thrust and immediately covered his mouth with Aziraphale's soft shoulder, biting him again.

“Oh Crowley, Crowley…. Crowley, my dear. You feel so...so incredibly  _ good _ .”

It was hard to believe Crowley was  _ good _ . No right to consider he might be  _ good _ at this, when Aziraphale was doing everything. But he rocked with Aziraphale, and clung to him, urging Aziraphale to move with that pernicious foot of his digging into Aziraphale's hip. This signal, as it were, for him to pick up the pace even more, finding a satisfying rhythm that was providing a nice friction. Aziraphale changed the angle a little after one deeper thrust, trying to find that spot again. 

It wasn’t hard or fast by any stretch, even when Aziraphale picked up the pace. Caught in the moment, he was sure he never wanted to stop, ever. Aziraphale could feel the heat coiling deep down, growing every time he thrusted back in. He was only fairly aware of his own moaning and grunting sounds. When he was bitten it was his turn to almost scream, muffling it only with his head buried into Crowley’s neck.

_ Oh, how the neighbors will talk. _

Crowley's face was shiny, both with sweat and tears. This was his. Damn whatever pasts either of them had, this was  _ now _ and it was bloody euphoria. He wanted to yell and moan and cry out Aziraphale's name so everyone knew what a lucky lad he was, stuffed full by him.

Instead, Crowley just held on for dear life and  _ yelped _ into his shoulder when he felt that little bundle of sensitive nerves struck in this new way. 

Could one die from this? It would be a happy death. 

A  _ petite mort. _

Crowley felt like he was going to explode, or should explode if he could reach and tug himself and that seemed both necessary and impossible, so he clawed Aziraphale's back instead.

Luckily, Aziraphale’s subconscious was mindful of Crowley’s needs. He brought one shaky hand between them, where Crowley’s dick was pressed between their stomachs, already smearing percum everywhere. Taking him in hand, Aziraphlae started to stroke, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts. It only got complicated when their movements became more erratic. He squeezed perhaps a little too hard and burried himself again, holding in too close.

That was the end of sweet Mr. Crowley James Starbright. 

He thinks he meant to hold on for Aziraphale, as was the gentlemanly thing to do. Make sure your secret wonderful husband got off first?

Not a chance in Hell. 

Crowley just barely got his hand over his mouth and clenched down hard enough on Aziraphale’s cock to stop any further movement except for his own spasmodic shakes. He cried out against his palm and then bit that for good measure, his breath shaky and wrecked and well on the other side to a sob.

Azirpahale stilled involuntarily and kept his hand moving with a looser grip, until there was nothing left to be milked out. He cursed the darkness. Crowley’s face must have been beautiful.

Crowley felt a little differently. He was lucky it  _ was _ dark so Aziraphale couldn't see he was crying.

Of course, Aziraphale was still achingly hard and cut short just before coming himself, but he tried his best and kissed Crowley through his orgasm, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and hoped that he would be able to move soon.

"Love," Crowley whispered hoarsely, taking big, raking breaths to get himself to relax enough that Aziraphale could move. He nudged him weakly with his foot. "Come on. Please. Come for me, Angel. Know you can." 

Aziraphale only groaned as an answer and started moving again as soon as Crowley relaxed even an inch. It ignited so many nerves that Crowley shuddered and wondered idly if he was about to swallow his tongue. It didn't take too long to get back into rhythm.

But Crowley was so incredibly tight, it was driving Aziraphale mad at this point. His movements became more erratic, falling out of rhythm as he was pounding into Crowley while moaning unabashedly while chasing his own release. Again, again, a delicious punishment, before Aziraphale thrusted in deep. He couldn't hold it together anymore. He came, trembling and panting Crowley's names on his lips.

Aziraphale did his best to ride it out with shallow little thrusts, feeling how he filled Crowley up. He could feel his arms giving in, so Aziraphale slumped on top of his husband, his head nuzzled into his cheek, covering the lithe form under himself. He was still inside him, but that was very pleasant actually.

It took a moment for him to realize that Crowley's cheeks were damp, the afterglow making everything fuzzy.

"C-Crowley?” His speech was slurred but full of love and concern. “Dearest, what is it? Did I hurt you?"

Aziraphale brought his clean hand up, cupping the tear streak cheek and wiping some away with his thumb. Crowley was spent and full and leaking and overwhelmed. It left Crowley unable to answer, only making out a watery laugh and a nod. 

"Mmalright," he answered and hiccuped, which made him laugh more.

Which seemed to jar Aziraphale, all spent and nestled into him and ignite all those sensitive nerves again, like little bolts of lightning spread across a glass surface. Perhaps less violent, but still potent enough that he moaned and gripped Aziraphale's arms and forced out another chuckle. 

"Was it...ha, was it good?" Crowley finally whispered and nudged his face in closer to Aziraphale's, tucked in neatly and safely. He had felt Aziraphale pump and twitch and fill him and even overstimulated, it was blissful. 

Aziraphale was trying to suppress a fit of giggles, considering that it would be too much for Crowley in his sensitive state, but some slipped out. He kissed his face wherever he could, basking in the afterglow and the sweet sounds that were still coming out of Crowley’s lovely mouth.

"More than good love. Sublime I would say.

“Sublime,” Crowley repeated.

“Indeed. And the first time I got to do it to someone else, you know, instead of to me. I'm not opposed to give this another try…."

It was nice being so close, so connected. Aziraphale wanted to stay this way for hours but he knew that this was not going to happen, sadly.

"Oh, I love you so very much, my sweet, sensitive, insatiable little beast of a husband. "

Aziraphale felt the dire need to kiss, and so he started peppering Crowley's lips with, giving him the opportunity to breath. After each one was a small gasp and then a return to meet their lips together. Crowley’s legs were shaking, so Aziraphale set them on the mattress. Once they were settled, Crowley roped his hands together to keep them on Aziraphale, but soon he was matching each kiss properly, kiss for kiss with similar enthusiasm, like he was coming back to himself after having his senses knocked out of him. 

This was his first time doing that with someone.  _ With Crowley _ ! 

Oh, a seed of pride bloomed inside him and went warm and happy. 

They could do this again. They would do this again. They would do so many things together! And try new foods and places and books and rivers and statues and clothes and different ways at lovemaking and call him a fool, but it got his eyes to break their dams again and he was crying once more. At least it was punctuated with happy, surprised moans and whimpers.

They really were going to terrorize the neighbors. Aziraphale knew it. He felt it in his bones as deeply as he felt himself inside Crowley now.

As pleasant as the position, Aziraphale knew he had to change it when he felt the tremors in Crowley's legs start again. He had to maneuver them into something where Crowley was able to rest. Aziraphale slipped out slowly, panting a little while doing so. It was so slippery and he wished once more that there would have been enough light in the room to see properly. He wanted to look at his lewd handiwork so badly. Guess they had to wait until they were on their own.

It even crossed his mind to sink down between Crowley's legs,  _ inspecting _ what he'd done down there, maybe clean him a little. His body was so responsive, maybe he could wreck him a second time, just with his mouth and fingers?

This thought made Aziraphale’s spent cock twitch in anticipation, but such things had to wait and Crowley was already overwhelmed. The poor dear was  _ crying _ for heaven’s sake. It wouldn’t do to break him down completely.

So, Aziraphale laid down beside his husband, pulling him close and pressing his head softly down on Crowley’s chest, carding through his hair.

"Shhhh...everything's fine, my love, I'm here…."

_ Course you're here, _ Crowley wanted to say, but be was a bloody mess and, to be frank, found relief and comfort to hold him. Cling to, more like, considering the strangely empty feeling he had now, which made him tense and shiver for a moment. He was...he was leaking! It felt so obscene that he tried to squeeze his legs together, afraid of staining the sheets or something.

"Sorry," Crowley mumbled and laughed, for many reasons, and traced up to kiss him again. "I love you."

Kissing was good. It helped to overcome the desire to sink directly back into Crowley, now that he was pliant in his hands. It seemed the thought conveyed even though a kiss and Aziraphale could feel Crowley tensing up. He pulled Crowley closer, trying to nudge one of his long legs over Aziraphale’s thigh.

“And I love you. Whatever are you sorry for though? I guess I should be the one apologizing. You still crying, love.”

“I know.” Crowley chuckled and pressed his face weakly into Aziraphale’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop, it seemed, but wasn’t unhappy about it.

Aziraphale simply traced patterns wherever they touched skin. It was so peaceful, lying here together, sweaty and exhausted but feeling nothing but bliss.

“I should clean you up,” Aziraphale whispered. “You must be uncomfortable. And, ha...my other hand….”

"No, just stay here," Crowley answered softly in the dark. 

He found Aziraphale's hand and closed his fingers around it. Yes, it was a mess. The whole bed was a mess. But Aziraphale was warm and soft and sweet and here, so he very much didn't want to let that go. Even if it would be a bother later. 

"You are wonderful, by the way," Crowley said, gently bumping his head to Aziraphale's. "I, uh...didn't know I'd ever be so...leaky," he whispered and chuckled a little. Without the threat of overstimulating Crowley, Aziraphale soon followed in a fit of giggles.

“Yes. That’s one of the aspects of intercourse, I’m afraid. You were wonderful as well, my love. Thank you for letting me do this to you. You’re...not sore or hurt, are you?”

"Oh, I'm sore as hell," Crowley answered, touching Aziraphale’s lips when he heard that soft concerned “ _ oh _ ,” from his husband. "But I loved it. I love you. Felt...all of you and it was so...." Crowley laughed, a bit embarrassed. He was tired and soaked all over and just.... "Yeah. Wonderful," Crowley repeated with a sigh. "Can do it again, love. Will do it again. Any time."

“You know what, you will be a good boy now,” Aziraphale said stubbornly and kissed that lovely sharp nose. “Rest. I’ll clean you up properly and then I’ll pull you close again and we sleep. I won’t accept a no.”

_ A good boy. _ Crowley tsked and almost protested, but it was too good a prospect to be pampered.

While stumbling over to the vanity as before, Aziraphale blindly felt out the few items there for their guest to wash himself in the morning, should he want to. He returned shortly and started to clean Crowley’s exhausted body. He loved to pamper Crowley, even just a little, but he could feel his own body growing tired. 

When he heard Aziraphale yawn, the slow way he climbed back in, Crowley turned and wrapped him up, curling in a way one might even consider  _ obediently _ . Good boy indeed.

“And now?” Aziraphael asked, settling back into the bed and pulling Crowley close to cover them with the sheets. “The best part. Falling asleep with the most important person in the entire world...Goodnight, love...”

"Goodnight, love. Goodnight, goodnight," Crowley whispered fondly and fell asleep much too soon after.


	13. News From London

The next morning, Crowley felt like he had ridden a horse for several hours and his thighs burned from a gentle abuse. He groaned into the pillow when he started to wake, that pillow being mostly occupied by one Aziraphale. Couldn't make too much of a protest, but he wanted to, sneaking his arms back around his lover's torso and moaning pathetically into his skin like a sleepy brat.

“Good morning, my love. Not ready to face the world yet?”

Aziraphale had been awake for some time but couldn’t bring himself to startle Crowley. He had been sleeping so peacefully and watching him was somewhat soothing. Aziraphale combed his fingers through sleep-tousled hair and chuckled. It appeared that Crowley was not a morning person in the slightest. He might be wrong, but evidence suggested otherwise.

“I’m afraid that I need to sneak out soon,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Nngh.”

Well, true. Aziraphale really didn’t want to either. He wanted to lie there until it was almost noon, eat a late breakfast in bed with Crowley and engage in nothing but cuddling for the rest of the day. That sounded like the perfect plan! But he could already hear the house coming to life.

If he must, he must. But there was no good morning if there weren’t any kisses. Aziraphale took Crowley’s head in his hands and brought him up so he could change that.

“Did you have pleasant dreams?”

The little scowl and pout were replaced by a dreamy smile. 

"Mmmm, not really," he answered happily. "Too worn out to remember them. Someone made certain of that." 

Crowley coiled in closer, not ready to let him sneak away as he should, and kissed him. He should care and be embarrassed, probably, for morning breath and his disheveled, groaning demeanor, but he found he did not and was not.

“And that someone will make certain of that again and again,” Aziraphale promised.

He laughed and kissed Crowley again, long and tender, ready to waste hours to such devotion. 

Sadly,it was interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on Aziraphale’s door. He knew that it must be his, just gauging on the distance, and after he heard the voice of his father calling, him it was crystal clear.

“Aziraphale! Get out of bed already. Your answer arrived.” 

There was a moment of silence and a deep grumbling before Mr. Fell knocked again. 

“If you want to be a successful businessman, get your bum down and join me in the study!”

They could hear his father’s footsteps fade down the hallway before Aziraphale looked at Crowley with wide eyes.

“My answer! The offer for the shop!”

"The shop," Crowley repeated and then squeezed Aziraphale. "Oh! Yes!" He let him go so he could get up and find his clothes. 

Crowley should do the same. He hissed and groaned as he was made to move, only stopping when he finally caught the sight of Aziraphale's shoulders in the early sunlight. Crowley gasped and covered his mouth to hide his unfortunate giggling. 

Aziraphale was shimmying into his breeches when he heard Crowley’s gasp. He turned around to look at him frowning.

“What? What is it?”

"You, um...." Crowley tapped his own shoulders and shook his head. "Should be hidden by your shirt and collar," he amended and gently crossed his ankles. "Think you'll be fine. Where's your cravat? I'll tie it up for you."

Oh...right. There had been biting. Aziraphale traced the spot and pressed, feeling the faint ache of a bruise. He walked over to the mirror and inspected the damage.

“Goodness, Crowley!”

That was a proper bite mark. Those were  _ teeth _ indentations! Aziraphale blushed and traced it a little more. In the heat of the moment he had wanted to be marked and it didn’t lose its appeal now in a more sober state. He would need to look at it properly later, now slowly remembering that Crowley asked after...right, the cravat.

“It’s in my room,” Aziraphale whispered. “I wanted to wear as few items as possible when I came here. But nobody should see me sneaking back in my room. I think. They’re already up. This should be fine.”

Aziraphale returned to the bed, sitting beside Crowley while pulling his shirt over his head.

“You’re a beast,” Aziraphale said affectionately and bowed down to kiss him. “Next time, I’ll mark you up. Your thighs should be a good place...”

That should not excite him as much as it did. Crowley flushed and held his hands over his own thighs. 

"I mean...promise?" Crowley mumbled with a little hidden smile. 

Crowley should get dressed as well. Might be nice to wait downstairs for breakfast and to see if he could catch Gabriel and Beatrice. He groaned again towards their knees as he got up to get dressed. His legs felt a little rubbery and he needed a good long stretch before he started getting dressed. He had on his shirt before Aziraphale could leave. 

"I'll come down soon. I hope it's good news, Angel." One more kiss for good luck before Crowley snuck out.

Aziraphale managed to reach his room undetected and got himself to a presentable state before heading down. His steps were light, like he was floating. He was genuinely happy and even hopped down the two last stairs. After he’d stolen some biscuits under Tracy’s playful scolding, he hurried to his father’s study.

When Crowley finally ventured down, Gabriel was sitting at the table, pouring some tea and looking a little haggard. Tracy was beaming at the guest and offered him a seat.

“There you are. Fresh as a daisy, dearie! Is everything alright? You look as though you had as much of a hard night as Gabriel here.”

The latter was shooting Mrs. Tracy a displeased look. 

“Must have been the Moon or something,” Gabriel grumbled. “Good morning, Crowley. Have you seen my brother?”

_ Every inch of him, in fact, _ Crowley thought and had to bite his smirk. 

"Heard your father calling for him this morning. Something about, uh, news? Think he was up and at it before I was."

Crowley bowed slightly to “Madam” Tracy and took a seat near Gabriel, tightening a fist on the table as the only betrayal that sitting down hard and fast was  _ not _ a spectacularly great idea this morning.

"Have you seen my cousin?" he asked in the same droll tone.

“No. I’m guessing that she is still fast asleep. We walked. Quite a lot.”

Tracy was loading Crowley’s plate with biscuits and fresh apple slices, patting his shoulder affectionately. “You two should get a good bite then, so that your strength might return.”

The rest of the breakfast was mostly held in silence, with the occasional comments from Tracy, including some pointed questions about Shadwell.Crowley had happily indulged in stories with Tracy, even blindly sharing about Shadwell, though he could not guess why she was interested in him. Whilst in the middle of some funny little thing about Aziraphale getting lost in the house as a small child, he came walking in fast with an expression between excitement and nervousness.

“Ah, you’re awake! Good morning, Crowley I have wonderful news!”

“I wish you a good morning as well,  _ brother _ ” Gabriel said with a raised eyebrow. Aziraphale merely shushed him with a hand gesture and sat down between him and Crowley.

“So, it looks like I’m a shop owner now. He accepted! I’ll be on my way to London first thing tomorrow, getting everything signed and sealed!”

Crowley looked up and grinned at Aziraphale's arrival, then scooted closer, idly bumping their knees together. 

"He did? Oh that's wonderful!" Crowley hugged his arm, ignoring Gabriel entirely at this point. He felt giddy for Aziraphale. He smiled earnestly at him, openly happy. "Tomorrow? Good, get things started as soon as possible! I'm so happy for you! What does this entail, exactly?"

Gabriel mumbled something along the way that nobody in this room was having manners at all but Azirphale wasn’t paying him attention either. He had brought the letter with him, wagging the piece of paper around in his excitement.

“We’ll discuss what of his stock I’m about to take over. I already prepared a list of my personal editions weeks ago, so I can see if there’ll be any doubles. I guess this will take up most of the time. Even though we already settled on a price, I’m ready for further negotiations, so this will be the biggest hurdle. And, of course, I’m going to inspect the flat above the shop as well. I don’t want to buy the cat in the sack as it is.”

He was vibrating with excitement. Finally, the dream of being independent  _ and  _ starting a life together with Crowley was in arms’ reach. Gabriel chimed in with a surprised question.

“A flat? You’re planning on leaving for London permanently?”

Aziraphale looked up, smiling bright at his brother.

“Yes indeed! Father always said that I should find my place in the world. I already lived in Oxford through university and you in Cambridge, so there’s nothing unusual about it. It’ll be exciting!”

Gabriel looked between his brother and Crowley now, still an eyebrow raised. It seemed like he was trying to place the pieces of a puzzle together.

Tracy saved them further scrutiny by congratulating him, but also mentioned that the house would be a little colder without his presence. Aziraphale assured her to visit as often as possible and stood up, tugging on Crowley’s sleeve to follow.

“What about a little morning walk and I’ll tell you more about the details?”

Crowley got up quickly with another little bow and even a kiss to Tracy's cheek as thanks for breakfast and conversation. He said a more formal goodbye to Gabriel before he followed after Aziraphale. Once out of the kitchen and away from everyone, the two walking slower, happier. Crowley even tried to take the letter to read it himself.

"Can't believe how fortunate this is. Shop and flat  _ and  _ in London? This is astounding!"

“Right? After all that happened before, it looks like we’re on a lucky streak!”

As they walked, Aziraphale continued to flex his fists at his side, trying to expel his energy. When they were outside, between some weeping willow and lush bushes, he abruptly turned around and hugged Crowley around the waist, lifting and twirling him around for the briefest moment.

Crowley laughed brightly, holding him as he was spun.  _ My, _ but Aziraphale was strong. It unnerved him not because he could be overpowered but because he underestimated Aziraphale. Shouldn’t do that.

“I’m so happy, I think I’m overflowing! We’ll be free! Truly free, Crowley, just the two of us!” He wouldn’t even mind being seen right now. All he could see was a bright future, full of things he loved and cared deeply for. “I’ll be gone for about four- up to five days but it’ll be worth it, love!”

"It will be," Crowley agreed. "I'll hate to be away from you that long, but I suppose I'll survive. As will you, yes?" He also didn't mind anyone seeing and cupped Aziraphale’s face for a long, steadying kiss. One of hundreds in their near future, he was certain. Thousands.  _ Millions _ of them.

"Would it be foolish to write you letters? It might take too long to get to you. Maybe I'll save them and give them to you in one bundle when you come back and we plan moving forward?”   
“I think I’ll get by but only barely. I’m quite spoiled now, you know,” Aziraphale answered, their foreheads pressed together again.   
“I'll talk to my father and tell him I'm going to strike out on my own in London! We'll make this work, Angel, I know we can!"

“Oh, all of this sounds lovely! I’ll give you the address of where I’ll reside, just in case. I will definitely send you a letter after the first day, to let you in on the progress. And we will, Crowley, we will. We’ll be waking up together every day soon. Oh I love you so much.”

For the rest of the morning they were staying outside, discussing what they would do as soon as they lived together. Aziraphale wanted to enjoy as much of Crowley as possible, holding him close and kissing him whenever he could. There wouldn’t be enough time to lay together again. Crowley was still sore and he needed to pack, but that was alright. The point was that they were together and that they could stay this way soon enough.

Once they were walking and discussing, Crowley got in his head that he really did enjoy the idea of a flower shop and wondered about looking into the area. He excitedly discussed and listened to Aziraphale talk about plans for the shop, his supplies, how he hoped it would all go. They talked about him setting up his new home and Crowley teased him about getting extra sheets if he could afford them. And then again to remind him where to get the oil and kissed his cheeks when he caught him blushing. 

They kept their hands on or near each other for the rest of the time they had, whenever they could. The future seemed as bright as the rising sun, already making its way high into the sky.

They had plans. Aziraphale had his shop. It felt perfect.

**-**

Shorty after noon it was time to part. Aziraphale had to prepare and Crowley and Beatrice were expected back home soon. It was hard to play just casual friends when they saw their guests getting into the carriage. Aziraphale wanted to pepper Crowley’s face with kisses, tell him that he’d missed him just a hundred times more, but they couldn’t with his parents so nearby and the servants who might gossip soon enough.

But they had already planned to meet at the gardener's cabin as soon as he was back and Azirphale was already excited to do so. And a little distance was only keeping up the fire, wasn’t it? Not that they needed distance forever. They said their formal goodbyes and Aziraphale was looking after the carriage longingly for some time.

“Say Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, still waving after the carriage, his eyes trained on Beatrice, no doubt. “Where is your ring?”

Damn that Gabriel. Since when was he so observant?

“My ring?”

“Ring,” Gabriel repeated. ‘Small round thing. Has a sigil on it.”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale closed his hand and quickly tucked it into the small of his back. “Uh, must have lost it somewhere. I’ll forget my head next, you know.”

Gabriel was looking at him quite unconvinced but didn’t push further. Aziraphale got back in and started preparing for the trip, to secure a bright future for him and his spouse.

**-**

"I should have asked for a ring too," Beatrice said casually after they were back on the road.

Crowley was draped in his corner. Now that there was no one around to bother or to put up appearances to, he made himself comfortable instead of presentable. She had walked her hands across the seat beside them and touched his hand, where he quickly clenched it and drew it back.

"You going to marry him?" Crowley asked casually.

"After what he let me do?" She laughed brightly to the sky. "You're damn right."

"You're a demon, dear cousin."

"And you're a poor boy who needs one decent night sleep before he collapses."

"You're my new physician then?"

They both regarded each other in silence for a beat and then, finally, laughed.

When they were home, the dragging suspicions about one Hastur Starbright seemed to have landed their thorny mark. There was a letter, a missing trunk, and a hole in the family legacy. 

It was the beginning of it and Crowley didn't realize that such a simple jovial moment with Beatrice would appear to be the end of laughter in the Starbright home for a while.


	14. Don't Spit on Floors

The journey started early the next morning, shortly after the first light crept over the trees. It was uneventful and took quite too long, but Azirpahale was too excited to sleep much. His mind was wandering between the bookshop and Crowley. Four days, maybe five and they would be back in each other’s arms.

The first meeting with Mr. Lawrence went well enough. Aziraphale could impress him with his vast knowledge on the subjects of history, book binding, and even sales, which seemed such a distant concern when he was finally standing in the midst of such a large collection of beautiful books. They were checking the inventory and it took almost the whole day to work a good part through. Duplicates mentioned in the ledger, patrons around the area that liked this author or that. Certain collectors with their own impressive libraries that might call upon Aziraphale when word got around of a rare tome. As soon as Aziraphale was back at his residence, a small room down the street, he wrote the promised letter and sent it off first thing in the morning.

All this business stuff was quite time consuming and there were moments when Aziraphale just wanted to retire to his rooms and bury his nose in a book to relax, but he knew what he was doing it for and pushed through.

There were no letters from Crowley, but it was expected, for his time in London was limited to the week. Thank God.

When the deal was sealed and he sat in the the carriage back home, he thought he would explode with all the anticipation thrumming through him. The way home was tiresome, because yet again, he was not able to sleep. He had to get home first to drop all his stuff, report about his success and moving plans and then he would ride up to the Starbright estate. If he played his cards right, as it were, Aziraphale could join Crowley at the gardener’s cabin shortly after dinner. 

When Aziraphale finally arrived, his mood and vigor had increased at the familiar site of his family’s home and he jumped out of the carriage, making his way up the stairs only to bump into Gabriel.

“Good day, Gabriel, how nice you welcome me back! There’s so much I want to...what’s wrong?”

Something twisted uncomfortably in his guts when he saw the expression his older brother was greeting him with. It was dead serious, with a hint of sadness. The first thing that came to his mind was that something had happened to their parents.

“Aziraphale. Something’s happened.” Aziraphale nearly strangled him as grief overcame him, before Gabriel could continue. “The Starbrights....”

**-**

It wasn’t much later that Aziraphale arrived at the gates of Starbright manor, exhausted and wound up with a very grumpy Lazarus that was not used to being ridden so thoroughly. Aziraphale might look a mess now, but that was something he couldn’t pay any attention. He needed to see Crowley. Now.

He took two steps at a time, banging on the front door like a mad man and only holding on to his manners in the slightest, most minimalist sense one could manage in such dire straits. He couldn’t even bring himself up to properly greet Shadwell. The only thing on his mind was Crowley.

“Where is he?”

"Well ye can't go banging on doors like the tax collector," Shadwell said, his voice low as he yanked Aziraphale inside, looking past him with a mixture of fear and hope before he closed the door. "Hello again, Mr. Fell, manners manners and so it goes." 

Shadwell was leading Aziraphale the usual way to the servant's hall, his shoulders hunched and miming to him to keep quiet as they went. But instead of going up the stairs, he grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and took him to the kitchen. 

"How much d'ya know, laddie?" he asked, not letting him escape. "Y'heard. Hastur, the rotten toad, run off to play with the pretty Duke, leaving us all here without an heir apparent and the Starbright name threatened? It's true." He scraped his thumb against his chin and frowned. "Been a whole mess. Poor Lillian's practic'ly bedridden from grief. Thaniel's locked that Master Crowley to a desk and dumped their business on his head; had him grinding his nose to figure it out. He'll follow his mother, mark my words. 

"Nobody but you and me hear this," Shadwell continued, getting closer, narrowing his eyes. "There's a large sum missing and a bad investment what been signed from Nathaniel Starbright's pen but naught by his hand and they're afraid it's gonna ruin em. Been a fat ugly thistle in the Starbright Paw three days now!" Shadwell huffed and leaned heavily against the brick. "I'd give em every cent I've saved if it helped, but they're the ones s'posed to be payin'  _ me. _ If I see that bastard Hastur, I'll ring his neck, see that I do."

Aziraphale merely stared in open horror. He saw all their plans, all the whispered little promises of a carefree future crumbling before them. Not only had Hastur broken the hearts of his own family but left them near ruin! How could one be so selfish and sinister? Crowley and Aziraphale were the last to judge someone madly in love but this...? And their poor mother, risking that her fragile state would get worse from heartache.

It took Aziraphale some effort to find his own voice again.

“That’s.... I have no words for it. I’ll try anything in my power to help, I promise, but…. Shadwell, please bring me to him now. God knows, if I would had heard of it sooner I would have come here as fast as humanly possible! Faster, even! Crossed the land on wings, you know!”

"Right. Well, not about the wing nonsense, but….” Shadwell patted Aziraphale’s hand and blinked, coming out of his own sorry state. “Makes sense. You should see your...." He said no further and merely motioned him to follow again, slipping through the house. 

**-**

Crowley could have gone to bed. His father had gone at long last to go stay by his wife's bed for a while and they had both had a late supper, but Crowley did not find comfort in his bed much. It was lonely and it was cold and it only let him stew in the headache of figuring out how to untangle what that bastard had done.

He had retired for a moment to the library with a stack of potential agreements to ponder over on the armchair next to him and a glass of wine to replace the bread and broth he had managed down earlier. He was facing a dying fireplace, his head cradled in hand, so close to dozing off that he might spill his drink. 

That was where Shadwell led Aziraphale to find him.

Aziraphale mouthed a silent thank you to Shadwell and approached the figure at the fireplace cautiously. Shadwell left with a little bow, closing the door as silently as possible behind him.

Perhaps it was the flickering like, but Crowley looked so fragile. Broken. Aziraphale’s heart ached with every passing step and guilt started to rise. He should have been here for him. Here to ease the pain, to cushion the fall a little, but he had selfishly departed for his own wants. 

Maybe he should have said something first, not to startle him, but the urge to touch him, bundle him up in his arms was too strong. Aziraphale reached out with one hand to take the drink out of Crowley’s while the other searched for his face.

"Dearest…” Aziraphale whispered gently. “It's me."

Crowley roused slowly, breathing deeply as he came out of his almost-sleep. He focused on Aziraphale's face, dark against the backdrop of the fireplace, and reached for him with a creeping smile. When his hand landed and he realized it wasn't a dream, he actually smiled wider.

Then frowned.

"Aziraphale? You're back, you.... Oh, I didn't. I didn't meet you at the gardener's... it's late? Did you just get in?" 

Crowley’s words and thoughts were crashing together as he tightened his hold on Aziraphale and tried to stand like he was going to offer him something. Food. Maybe something to drink. A place to sit.

Something shattered in him, seeing Crowley like this. He hadn't slept much, that was clear and yet here he was, fretting that they had not met on their agreed upon spot, at their agreed upon time. Kind, wonderful fellow. Stupid idiot, too, seeing as he was almost drunk and bedraggled and exhausted. Crowley must learn to take care of himself, that was clear. Something to chastise later. Instead, Aziraphale gently pushed Crowley back into the armchair, kneeling in front him.

"I just arrived. Came here as soon as I heard of….” It tumbled out of him. Aziraphale wanted to say something encouraging, soothing, anything to make it a little more bearable but seeing him like this…. “Oh, Crowley. I'm so...I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most. I'm here now."

Aziraphale turned to kiss the hand that he pressed against his cheek and then he couldn't hold it in anymore. He pulled Crowley into a firm embrace, cradling him a little and taking in that familiar scent, the press of this too cold body against his. He wanted to warm him up. To take away the exhaustion and make it better.

"I'm here now. You're not alone in this. I'm here..."

"Aziraphale." Crowley clung to him, laughing gently into his neck that he buried himself too tight against. "It's alright," he said, hoping to reassure him. 

His fingers kept clasping, trying to hold him tighter or grab somewhere new, afraid that would be taken away too soon. How tender Aziraphale was to worry, when he should be sharing about his bookshop, his success. He hoped it was a success.

“It isn’t! Look at you!” 

"It's alright," Crowley repeated and at this point his mouth was firmly trapped against Aziraphale’s collar, the words practically mush, which somehow made it easier for his throat to crack and his eyes to blur. They stung when he tried to hold it back. "It's alright," Crowley repeated a third time and broke open on his husband, the long, exhausting, lonely week pouring out at last. 

They were supposed to go. They were supposed to go together and be married and happy. It was supposed to be alright for them. Aziraphale pressed him firmer against him, tears threatening to overwhelm him as well. This was not fair. Everything had been like a dream and now they were violently ripped out of their pleasant slumber.

"We're in this together, love. In better and worse, you remember?” Aziraphale pet down Crowley’s hair, letting him cry, holding him and giving his love the opportunity to get it all out without holding back. It was the best he could offer. “We’ll figure it out..."

After the crying jag had spent itself and after Crowley practically dragged Aziraphale into his lap, he finally got quiet and just rested against him. They  _ would  _ figure it out, of course. Nothing was impossible now that Aziraphale was there, selfish as Crowley felt for letting his husband see him like this. He had calmed down again and breathed a little easier. 

"Tell me. About your trip. Please?" Crowley whispered a little easier against him, finding hands to hold while they were safely trapped in the armchair together. "Tell me everything."

Aziraphale did as he'd been asked for, telling Crowley about the long journey without sleep, two days of just going through book titles and discussing authors and literature in general and all the tedious things that came with contracts and that nonsense. He didn't see much from London while visiting, determined to get his task done. He had found a little shop that sold potted plants and he went there shortly before his leave.

"I have to admit that I don't know exactly what it is, but I've been told that it would survive the journey,” Aziraphale said of the dark leafy plant that had apparently come all the way from China. “It's at home though. It slipped my mind when I hurried over."

Aziraphale was massaging Crowley's scalp while talking. He wanted Crowley to relax as much as possible, of course, and the action itself was calming to him as well. Crowley melted like butter at the simple scalp massage and even though it seemed Aziraphale was attempting to only paint the tedium of the task of purchasing his own shop, Crowley was clearly happy to know what Aziraphale had accomplished something remarkable that was now waiting for him like solid ground back in London.

"So.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley’s cheek. “I'm a shop owner now. Everything will be set and ready next month. I negotiated better than expected and got more money left than anticipated. If I can help with anything…."

The mention of extra funds did make Crowley shiver and he was loath to admit his heart leapt before he caged it back into place.

Aziraphale took a deep steadying breath. They would figure it out. Together. There was nothing that could turn them apart now, not for him. He had vowed to be there for Crowley and, even though a coward most of the time, he was someone to stand by his word.

"I was thinking about you the whole time. Even surrounded by all those wonderful books, there wasn't a waking moment where there was not at least one thought regarding you. The nights were the hardest to be honest."

Crowley choked back a laugh.

"They were cold and empty without you, Angel," he admitted, breathing him in again. His hands did not wander far from where they gripped Aziraphale’s lapels, too tired or too afraid to let them go. "I got your letter. And half a reply done. You'll have to wait a bit for the rest of it, I think."

"Maybe you just tell me the rest of it in person. I will not be going anywhere. At least not today, if that's alright with you."

Crowley relaxed back again, shifting enough that the uneasy stack of papers fell over the side of the armchair and splashed to the floor. He was only concerned that none got too near the fire.

"When did it happen?” Aziraphale asked, ignoring the papers as well. “And is there anything I can do for you and your family now? Maybe I should talk to Father."

"No," Crowley said firmly, his grip a little tighter. He groaned and put his forehead to Aziraphale. "No. I mean...who knows how he might respond. I don't want him to upset you. I'll...I'm going to get him to pick one and then it'll be sorted. Least keep our heads above water. 'Oh, they'll always need it for the war. Oh, it's your mother's favorite, she'll die of a broken heart.'"

It was clear Crowley was talking around himself again, of other conversations and he rolled his forehead against Aziraphale's shoulder. "Stubborn ass, look after your personal affairs more than your damn production.... 'm so tired," he said with a little laugh. "What were we talking about?"

_ Pick what _ ? Aziraphale was a little worried about what this might imply but he couldn't ask now. It was like Crowley was feverish again and Shadwell's words were echoing in his mind. He took a hand and placed it in Crowley's forehead.

Maybe a little warmer than usual but nothing that suggests a fever. Aziraphale let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I figure you didn't get much sleep. Let me take you to bed. This mess will wait for you anyways. And if you don't get along, you won't leave me a choice but to carry you right to your room."

It was a threat, but an affectionate one. Crowley laughed through his nose, soft and defeated. But happy to be defeated, at least, in this sense. 

"Bed. Yes. Must make up for lost time. A whole week. To think we managed days apart." 

He was also teasing and took Aziraphale's warm, steady hands in his own, kissing his knuckles. 

It was easy to get out of the chair and Crowley walked mostly upright with him, glancing back at the papers with a guilty stare that was turned away just as quickly. They made it easily back to his room without a fuss and even though he was tired, he knew Aziraphale had rode over, seeing his boots, and joked tenderly about having to get Newton up to put Lazarus away.

“I just put him in the barn,” Aziraphale answered.

“Then he’ll be alright,” Crowley said, closing the door, locking it and putting thekey back above on that little ledge of the frame. He stepped over and forced Aziraphale to sit, carefully removing his boots with sleepy but exorbitant love, no teasing kiss to his thighs, maybe one for his kneecaps. Aziraphale wanted to protest, to pick Crowley up immediately and tuck him in but it seemed like Crowley needed to do this for him. He almost teared up; even in such dire times he was showering Aziraphale with love.

When they were gone, Crowley just crawled up on Aziraphale and collapsed, hugging him tightly with intent to sleep right there where he could hear that steady heartbeat.

Aziraphale simply held Crowley, making it as comfortable for them both as possible. It was no problem to let Crowley use him as a body pillow. He even welcomed it. To feel his weight and warmth atop of himself was like really coming home.

To get him easier to sleep, Aziraphale started humming an old lullaby into the red hair. It didn’t take long. The song, though barely heard and not remembered the next morning, was a drug that dragged them down to a full night's rest.

-

Shadwell had guessed correctly where the chaps had gone off to and he had a key to the bedrooms that he did not use. Instead, he knocked quietly, patiently, steadily, until someone came to answer.

Crowley jolted upright, then grabbed his head where an ache was already starting to turn and roll around in his skull. 

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Crowley muttered blindly, stumbling for the door and forgetting he had company with him. "Yes?"

"Ah, you're dressed. In...yesterday's clothes."

Crowley looked down at himself, a little bleary-eyed. 

"And the day before's too, you might remember."

"I do. I was just hoping our kind guest would remind you to, y'know, change and perhaps even wash up?"

"Guest?"

Crowley turned and stared like he was three-sheets-to-the wind, struggling to focus on the shape in his bed. His eyes opened suddenly, wide and happy as he recognized those soft curls. 

"I collected your papers in the lib'ry this mornin' and have hot tea all ready for you. Did you want a little more time? I can stall yer father for, oh, seventeen minutes?"

"No, yes, thank you, Shadwell," Crowley muttered, ignoring whatever the last bit he said after "morning" and eventually got the door shut again before he crawled over to the bed and snuck back in with Aziraphale.  _ That _ must be why he didn't dream last night about debt collectors and ransackers and Hastur pouring turpentine onto his doorway and lighting it with a candle, cackling the whole time. He found Aziraphale's face and kissed his cheeks tenderly, holding him and pecking him again and again.

Aziraphale made an undignified grunting sound that turned into an appreciating hum. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up into the most gorgeous amber eyes he’d ever seen. He smiled and cupped Crowley’s cheek.

“Mhhh. Good Morning. It is morning, isn’t it?” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s shoulder and pulled him down into a kiss. He felt a little numb and stiff from sleeping in almost the same position all night long but waking up to such tenderness was worth it. “How are you, love?”

"Better. So much better," Crowley whispered back, working his way from one cheek to the other. It was a little difficult to rise and answer questions with all the kisses, but who was he to complain about that. "How are you? Sorry I passed out on you. Did you sleep alright?" 

“Don’t apologize for that, it’s all tickety-boo.” 

Crowley felt oddly light this morning. Rested, sure, and happy, yes, but also touched with a spot of hope he thought he'd have to bottle up and bury ten feet below them and cover with cement or something.

"I'm to go meet with my father this morning, but did you want breakfast? How long are you staying? Should I let you rest more?" 

Crowley was probably talking too quickly, but found he wasn't able to really shut himself up.

“Breakfast sounds wonderful. But I do not want to impose, especially not if you have business with your father. I think I can manage to stay the rest for the day if you like and ride home around supper.”

"Good. We'll have lunch. We'll have it out in the garden. It will be delicious," Crowley announced very seriously. Then he grinned again and kissed Aziraphale properly, taking his time, re-introducing himself to his husband and the natural happiness he brought with him. 

They were loathe to break away from it. 

"I suppose, well, you know your way around a bit and, if not, I think Shadwell even likes you. Who doesn't like you?" Crowley asked with a sort've breathless laugh.

“Michael. I’m quite sure he doesn’t. Don’t worry about me. Go meet your father. Or.” Aziraphale got up and brushed Crowley’s hair. “After you freshen up a little!”

They both did their best to try and salvage their appearance. After Aziraphale made certain that Crowley was at least changing in a new set of clothes (he had to turn around when he undressed), he kissed his husband goodbye and made his way down to the kitchen.

He was happy to see Florence again and hoped that Greta didn’t remember that he had been a biscuit thief. He ate a little and listened to the staff. The staff were mostly friendly with him, Florence and Shadwell more so, but the rest were not giddy, only because they were very busy getting things in order for the morning. Two had been let go very recently, just before the rumors began about Hastur, and they all speculated it was going to be the end of the household by year's end.

"Don't listen to that," Shadwell said, joining in for breakfast halfway through with a pipe already between his teeth. "They’re clucking like hens about to have their heads chopped off when we're not even in the butcher's shed!" 

"Well, isn't it? I mean, Mr. Crowley can't possibly take over for Hastur. He's a...you know...." another young man said as he was cleaning dishes and folding linens across at the other table.

"A what now?" Shadwell asked, leaning back. 

The young man shrugged and ducked his head. "I mean, he's always off traveling and he had that wife in Spain."

"Y’ cannae even keep all your rumors straight anymore? That's old news," a woman said. "Now it's that he's been with another man."

" _ And _ ?" Shadwell asked directly, like he was threatening them to start something. 

The two glanced at Shadwell, then at Aziraphale and shut themselves back up.

Aziraphale tried to keep up an uninterested facade but failed when he choked on his tea at the mention of Angela. Oh god and now they even knew he was with a man? Well, rumors traveled as fast as light it seemed. On the other hand, they weren’t really cautious anymore, too love struck to care. Or maybe they had been too loud.... He blushed furiously on the last thought and tried to get his breathing back on track.

“Is that so...? I think he’s trying to move heaven and earth to salvage what’s possible, even though he was never meant to do this.”

The thing of it was, Aziraphale just could not keep his mouth shut on the matter. It may not be his place, but Crowley clearly cared deeply for the staff, for his mother, for the family itself, whom he would never leave behind. He may have suggested to run away when it was silly dreaming, when their world was different - a distant one at that - but they stayed and Aziraphale knew now that he would’ve never broken his mother’s heart like this.

Thinking of her….

“May I ask, how severe is Mrs. Starbright’s condition?”

The crowd seemed to dwindle in spirits further, casting their heads down, one of them giving the sign of the cross. Greta came over with an extra plate of boiled eggs and cheese. 

"She's resting," Shadwell finally said, eyeing everyone like they were all three-eyed dogs couldn't shake their tails right. "And. She'll recover, I'm sure of it. Tough one, that Lillian. Just got knocked sideways with Mr. Hastur." Then Shadwell spat on the floor, and the other two at the table did the same, much to Greta’s open horror.

Should Aziraphale do the same? In an act of solidarity? He wasn’t sure, especially with Greta threatening to box their ears, and he had just put a bite in his mouth. Better not waste that. He swallowed and eyed the new plate instead.

“Yes, well.” He turned to Shadwell, dropping his voice a little. “Is this for her? If so, would it be...would you let me bring that up to her? I would like to help in any small way.”

Shadwell glanced at the offering of food and pinched his pipe between his teeth again, grinning at the lad.

"It is," he answered and nudged the plate towards Aziraphale. "Want me to lead you to her room? I think she'd like the company. I'll stand watch outside and all, considering my pipe won't be too good for her anyhow."

“That would be lovely.”

Shadwell stood and expected Aziraphale to follow, since that was a nice idea of him and he approved and, being a nosy gossip around the house as he was, he knew the lady of the house might approve too.

Aziraphale followed right away with the plate in hand. He could feel a nervous coil begin to curdle in the depths of his gut. They didn’t speak too often and going to her room, with her sick on top of it all, was a big invasion of her privacy. Shadwell had agreed right away though, and that must’ve meant something since the old grumpy man was around this household for a long time, knowing everyone well enough.

“Crowley didn’t answer this when I asked yesterday, he was so exhausted, but... when did Hastur leave? I feel like I should have been here….”

"Just before you went on your trip, I'd say. Didn't realize his little absence around the house was more permanent," Shadwell said with a surprisingly cheery clip to his speech. He turned and his face told another story. "That stupid selfish bastard. Sure, let him sneak out to visit his lover, not a problem. Don't even mind it when Mr. Crowley wants to, who’m I to object? But to steal from yer own family? And abandon them?" He growled and was about to spit again, but they weren't in the servants kitchen and he decided against it.

Instead, Shadwell clapped Aziraphale on the shoulder and showed him to a door at the end of the hallway. 

"That's the one, right on the left. Want me to make introductions for you?"

Aziraphale remembered seeing Hastur the last time when he was staying over. He had seemed in a bit of a hurry, trying to avoid anyone in the hall. That must have been the moment of his departure. If he could only turn back time, he would have some words! And some of them not even nice ones!

Shadwell’s touch grounded him again, but the nervousness had time to bubble up again. Right. Must smooth out one’s features. Talking to his  _ mother-in-law _ after all. Oh, bother.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said after a time, blinking himself back up out of his thoughts and smiling placatingly at Shadwell. “Yes. I think that would be the proper approach.”

Maybe she was sleeping. Or she would send him out right away. He was not family, so to speak, and seeing her in this state might be shameful for her. Aziraphale swallowed. Shadwell nodded and made a little  _ allow me _ gesture before he pushed open the door. 

"Hullo," he said softly, creeping into the room some. "Mrs. Starbright? Thought you might be hungry. Brought a nice strapping young man with your breakfast."

Lillian lay propped up in the middle of her bed, as pale as the sheets she was upon. She had that same bruised, wandering look that Crowley had when he was ill, but she smiled to hear Shadwell approach. 

"Who's with you this time?" she whispered as he took her hand. She closed her eyes and rested her head against him. "Mm. You've been smoking again."

"That I have. Don't want to poison you now." He laughed when she feigned coughing, smiling sadly when her cough became real and racking. "I'll let our guest get you your food then, hmm? Then some rest and we'll see if we can get some sunlight in here for you."

He kissed her forehead and waved Aziraphale over. The display of affection soothed Aziraphale’s nerves a little. The only person in his home that would show such tender gestures was Mrs. Tracy. No wonder that Crowley was such a sensitive being, there was much love here, hidden behind some rough and gruffly behavior, but it was there. 

"Right. It's young Mr. Fell! How d'you like that, hmm? With eggs and all for you."

Shadwell stood and maneuvered himself quite quickly behind Aziraphale so he could grip his shoulders firmly. Like he knew Aziraphale might work his nerves back up and back out. Lillian coughed into a kerchief and sat up, laughing lightly and covering herself more, even though she was already in a high-neck sleeping gown. 

"Mr. Fell. It's so good to see you. Sorry the same must not be true of me. I must look a fright."

Aziraphale smiled softly as he crossed the room and placed the plate down on her nightstand. He then bowed and folded his hands neatly together at the front. He didn’t know what to do with them and decided gripping them together would be the best option.

“Please, your beauty shines through everything. And I think we were on first name terms the last time I had the pleasure. May I bear you company, or would you rather like me to leave?”

Lillian laughed some more, rolling her face towards her pillow as Shadwell took his leave to go play guard by the door and idly clean his pipe out.

"Flattery will always get you everywhere, Aziraphale, I'm sure you know that." 

“I try my best but I think Crowley is much better in this department. And I was only stating a fact.”

She sighed and caught herself before another coughing fit right at the end. 

"Still. Forgive me. A rough week has not been too kind to us, I'm afraid." She relaxed and looked him directly in the eyes, searching him out. "Why aren't you with Crowley, dear. I'm sure you'd want to keep his company than mine? Have you a chance to see him yet?"

His eyes wrinkled with the affectionate smile that spread over his face. He grabbed a nearby chair and positioned it beside her bed. He wouldn’t just sit on her mattress, that was something reserved for her husband, Crowley or maybe even Shadwell.

“Crowley is meeting up with his father, discussing things. I returned from my trip to London yesterday and got here as fast as possible. I...actually stayed the night. Couldn’t leave him alone in all this mess. Not more than I already had….”

He trailed off a little, looking down in his lap, frowning.

“And when I heard what effect this disaster had on you, I wanted to make sure that I could be of any assistance. In this case, bringing you breakfast. I’m so sorry about all this. If there’s anything I can do, I will. I already suggested a talk with my father. Maybe there’s some extra funds I could provide? But Crowley was having none of it.”

She suddenly reached and took hold of wherever she could land her hand, which happened to be his arm. 

"You're a good man, Aziraphale. The only good one my poor little Crow has set his eyes on that wouldn't break his heart on purpose or attempt to take his fortune or abuse him in some other fashion." 

Lillian coughed again into her fist, but watched him firmly all the same. 

"My son...Hastur. I should have done more with him, but he’s always been a stubborn sort. I was happy to see him in love, mind you, but I wish…. And he takes too much after his father to see what he's done, but that's none of your concern and you're too good to be bogged down by this."

She was coughing harder, all worked up, and had to relax against the pillows to catch her breath. 

"Word to the wise, young man. You give him extra coats and don't let him cry and drink alone in cold rooms all day and all night. Bad habits should be broken and you're smart enough to help him with that, aren't you?" She wheezed and covered her eyes a bit.

Aziraphale helped her lie back down again and took one of her hands, squeezing it a little. Her words were touching, and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes as he nodded eagerly through all of it.

“I will try my best. Really, his sleeping habits are worse than mine and I fall asleep in my reading chair every other night.” He managed a laugh that was bordering on being a little sob. “I promised to be there for him, whatever may happen, and I’m true to my word. I assure you that I only have the best for him in mind, always. I can see clearly now that you gifted him with more than your beauty, and I thank you for it. He’s a wonderful person, and so are you.” 

Never had Aziraphale imagined a scenario where he would feel so close to his mother-in-law. He wished that his own relationship to Contanze Fell would have been as deep and loving, which might have been the reason why he was drawn to Lillian.

“Before I worsen your state though, do you want some eggs? Something to drink?”

She laughed and patted his cheek, gently wiping away any tears that might slip.

"You're a sweetheart," she whispered and glanced over at the food. "And...yes. I think some food might be good." She got herself comfortable, smoothing out the comforter, and pet the bedding beside her. "Did you eat yourself? Mustn't skimp on meals," she said affectionately.

Aziraphale got the hint and sat beside her, offering the plate so she wouldn’t have to stretch too much.

“I already had breakfast with Shadwell. You don’t have to worry about me skipping a meal, really. Have you seen me in profile?”

He chuckled and the slight suspicion that he fell a little in love with his husband’s mother was creeping up on him. How could someone not love her?

“I acquired a shop in London...”

"In London? What kind of shop?" she asked after she had a few bites.

“A bookshop, actually. I’m kind of a bibliophile and my room back home resembles such a business already. It’ll be all set up at the beginning of next month. I... _ we _ thought about moving there....”

He turned pink. Admitting this in front of her was a little mortifying and he hoped that she wouldn’t think he wanted to wrest him from her and compare him to Hastur and Duke Ligur.

“That’s said, erm. We weren’t planning on running away! Just getting a place of our own and coming to visit and...oh Lord….”

Lillian smiled while she ate another bite of egg, watching him squirm a bit until even she could not stand him to be so embarrassed. 

"I would trust you wouldn't just run away. But, you know, he does love books too, even if he pretends he doesn't," she whispered, holding his hand again with a little laugh. She warmed his hand with her own, even if it was deathly cold and likely the other way around.

"Oh, you'll keep him entertained for a lifetime." She sighed and sat back again, still holding his hand. "Just need to get him free of this whole silly business. I never thought it was so important to have a male heir take over, but...men." She glanced at him and shook her head. "People like their father, I mean. You know how it is. One of the sons has to take over the family business. Legacy and all that trollop. I didn't think it was right for him. Or for Hastur. They have no love for it. I don't even think Thaniel has any love for it, really, but he took it after his father and kept it up to the best of his abilities. And that silly feud with the Fells," she started, rolling her eyes. "Before any of our time, I'm almost certain. Bickering over steel. It's so...."

She withered some and closed her eyes, the energy draining out of her after such a fun conversation. She coughed again, little by little slipping against her pillow. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Thank you for the lovely breakfast. More so for the company."

Aziraphale leaned down to brush a kiss over her knuckles and covered her cold hand between his for a moment.

“If women like you would be in charge of things, this world might be a much better place. You’re right. I would love to talk to you more, but I fear I drained you. I’ll leave you to rest. Don’t you think about not getting better. I would love you to visit my shop in the future.”

He squeezed her hand once more and rose slowly.

“Get well soon Mrs. Starbright. I’m going to pray for it.”

He bowed and turned for the door. He hoped dearly that she would overcome this. A broken heart was a tricky thing, he knew.


	15. Relieved Reprieve

Shadwell was by the door, holding his hand out to take the plate down with him to be washed. He said nothing, but there was a pleased look in his eye and he clapped Aziraphale on the back as he guided him away from the door for Lillian to get her sleep.

They still had some time to kill, it seemed, as there was shouting coming from the study, two voices overlapping and most people avoiding the hallway outside it. 

Shadwell asked Aziraphale if he might like to go out to the barn with him for a bit and tend to the livestock, which meant bugging young Newton Pulsifer, who was being a bit more aloof than usual. The poor idiot might be in love or something, what did Shadwell know, other than the goats wanted attention and the ducks wanted feed and the chickens had already been checked for eggs, so they must be alright.

Aziraphale happily accepted the offer, needing a distraction and just something to do, really. Hearing Crowley and his father argue was unpleasant to say the least and he made a mental note to pamper him properly later, in whichever manner needed.

It seemed that the brothers Bertram and Elias were happy to see him again from their pen, demanding treats but pleasantly butting against him when he came close enough. Aziraphale shared the sentiment. The ducks were lovely too and he couldn’t fathom why Crowley had a solid feud with every living thing out here; they were friendly!

He even tried to make conversation with Newton, trying to coax something out of him just to satisfy the old man’s need for gossip. Yes, it didn’t go unnoticed that Shadwell was lurking nearby as soon as Aziraphale started to chat the lad up. 

Gossip coupled with this hands-on work was a good distraction and at one point, Aziraphale even got rid of his coat and rolled up his sleeves to get them out of the way. 

But distractions only keep the mind occupied so long. It was quickly approaching lunch and now he started to worry.

“You think they killed each other in there?”

"Should prob'ly check," Shadwell answered casually, looking down to light his pipe again, the fourth time in as many hours. "Either that or they're going to burn the house down."

"I don't think they would," Newton said quietly as he was brushing one of the Starbright steeds. "Would they?"

"No," Shadwell answered. "No. Not really."

Newton relaxed at that and smiled. He quite liked talking to Aziraphale today and was happy to have such friendly company. 

"We'll be checking on the house then, Mr. Fell? And the companions within?"

Shadwell was walking slightly bent over towards the back entrance, expecting Aziraphale to follow. Hadn't gotten anything particularly juicy out of Newton that morning, so it seemed a total bust to stick around, other than the fresh air and bright skies and all that nonsense.

Aziraphale nodded and got his coat, though he didn’t slip it on again straight away. He bid farewell to Newton and followed the old man. When he caught up, he dropped his voice slightly, a triumphant smile on his face.

“Anathema. That’s her name.”

The grumpy servant had been a good friend to Crowley and to Aziraphale at this point, so he felt like rewarding him with such little frivolities was more than alright. Sooner or later he would have found out anyways, Newton was over the moon.

Shadwell was over the moon, same as Newton was, getting the name of that woman who bewitched his heart. 

Back inside, The first instinct was to look after Crowley immediately, but he had to wash his hands first and Florence was not letting him leave the kitchen without doing so. He was sure that Shadwell would fetch both men, riled up in that study. Mr. Starbright hadn't even seen Aziraphale yet, so his mere attendance could be a thorn in his side. It was better to wait in front of the kitchen, listening strained for any sound.

After the washing up and waiting at the table and one distant door being slammed shut, Shadwell eventually returned and whispered something to Greta and Florence. The two nodded, and Greta got together a nice little meal for a luncheon while Flo found a basket and slipped in a bottle of Mr. Crowley's favorite red wine. 

"Y'know, it really was a nice day out there," Shadwell said, holding Aziraphale's arm and walking him out of the kitchen. "Bright sun. Few clouds. Just a lovely sorta day, don'tcha say?" He reached blindly behind until he felt Flo put the basket in his hand. "I think, Mr. Aziraphale, that you'll be more happy if you spent it outside near that old gardener's shed. How's that sound?"

_ Oh. Right. _

“Ah that sounds rather lovely, you’re right! I’ll see you later then. Thank you, Mr. Shadwell.”

“No thanks. Just get ‘em outta...I mean...go have a nice day.”

This worked out rather nicely, actually. Aziraphale had plainly forgotten about their plans to visit the garden for their first reunion after purchasing the shop. He hurried down the small hill to get everything ready before Crowley joined him. Then, he had an even better thought and waited patiently in front of the barn, bouncing on his heels. 

Crowley needed dissipation and what better place for that than the small clearing nearby?

It took ten minutes just for the staff to find him, but they got Crowley out the door after a very quick brushing of his hair and washing his hands, unable to do much for the current ink stains. He stumbled a bit into the sunlight, looking bewildered, until he saw the familiar shape by the barn. 

Crowley made his way over, his smile growing fonder the closer he got. 

"Was this your idea then?" he asked happily, reaching for Aziraphale and stealing a kiss in broad daylight, any onlookers be damned.

Aziraphale hummed against his lips - they were a little chapped, he didn’t drink enough, oh that wasn’t how a good afternoon kiss should taste - and took Crowley’s hand, pulling him right along in the direction of their secret spot.

“Well, truth be told, you were the one suggesting a meal outside, remember? And good old Shadwell was attentive enough to remind both of us. They’re all lovely people, really.”

Up in the clearing, Aziraphale spread the blanket, sat the basket aside and pulled Crowley down as soon as his hands were free. He kissed him again, just an affectionately chaste one, and pulled out some of the baskets' contents.

“You need to eat something. And drink! I figured you had a rough midmorning and I won’t let you get up an  _ inch _ until you’re properly fed and rested.”

This was his last word on that. Aziraphale could be as stubborn as his damn steed.

Crowley couldn't help but laugh as Aziraphale set him in his place, there on the blanket with him. He stared after him, cool and calm and so very grateful. He wanted to curl up into Aziraphale and continue what he started at the barn, only needing the nourishment of soft affection, but it looked apparent that Aziraphale would think otherwise.

So, Crowley helped him with the picnic, at the very least with the cork, and took a sip before he offered it to his husband, trading it for some of the food packed inside. 

"You had a busy morning?" Crowley asked when he was able, popping one of the cherries in his mouth and chewing around the pit. "I mean, I know Shadwell was there. He's everywhere, I think." 

He laughed and looked around, half expecting to find Shadwell leaning against a tree drinking warm milk from the neighbor's cows out of a flask, which was oddly a favorite of his.

“I had to do  _ something _ . Helped out at the barn and talked to your mother for a little bit. I hope that was alright.”

Aziraphale reached for some cherries as well, eating one himself before dangling the other above Crowley’s mouth.

“You know that Newton is head over heels for a girl? I even got the name out of him. Oh, and so you know, the ducks were really polite and I don’t know  _ how _ you managed to get a grudge of the entire flock.”

Crowley hummed and took the bait, biting the dangling cherry from Aziraphale's hand. It gave him a moment to absorb what Aziraphale said. A conversation with his mother? Why? Was it a good one? The animals he could understand, Aziraphale was a softie and the animals loved him, because everyone loved him. His mother loved him, right? She adored Aziraphale. Was that alright that they talked? Was it about Crowley? 

"I think I upset one of them when I was little and they held a grudge on me passed through each generation henceforth," Crowley answered around his tiny mouthful, and he kept eating more as he thought. He had to turn and spit the pits out away from the blanket, which was neither dignified nor gentlemanly, but the worse option was to choke on them.

"And the goats? I don't know. They're beasts of Satan or something," Crowley teased, then reached and tugged Aziraphale's coat gently. "What did my mother say?"

Aziraphale toppled over giggling, thinking of a small version of Crowley chasing ducks. His features softened again when he was asking about his mother.

“Oh, this and that. I fear it was a little much, but she’s as delightful to talk to as you are. You’re much like her, you know.” 

He reached up and caressed Crowley’s cheeks softly with his knuckles. He could see the wheels grinding behind that handsome face.

“It can be summed up with sharing what a wonderful person you are and me promising that I’ll always cherish and look after you. I told her about London as well...”

Crowley closed his eyes. Even with the sunglasses, his clever husband saw too much. Enough, probably, to see he was blushing at the compliment that he was like his mother. He hoped he could live up to her.

Crowley had to clear his throat before he nuzzled Aziraphale's knuckle.

"Well. I'm glad you spoke to her. No doubt she said something embarrassingly sweet about books. She loves them." He turned and kissed Aziraphale's hand. "Not nearly as much as you do. Of course."

Of course Crowley neglected mentioning his interest in them, just like Lillian had said.

“But we share an equally great love for you, though I would never try to compete with the love of a mother.”

Aziraphale sighed happily and wanted to pull Crowley down, kiss him softly until the other hunger in him was unbearable and then devour him whole. It was a tempting thought, but Crowley hadn’t eaten properly and if he caved in now he wouldn’t get a shoe down ever again.

“Now eat your lunch and afterwards I’ll take care of your relaxation.”

Crowley looked up and smiled again, twisting his head a little. "And you haven't been feeding me cherries, Angel? While I relax with this bottle by you?"

Surely, half their lunch had been drinking, only because it softened the edges of the world and Crowley wanted to be soft for his husband then. He tucked his head in against Aziraphale and groaned a little before he looked up. 

"Alright. Lunch."

There were steamed leeks and broccoli as well as pastries, a roll of some sort with dried sausages and tomatoes, and another with mushrooms and tomatoes for Crowley. And their nice cluster of cherries for a treat. Since he had worked so hard this morning, Aziraphale indulged happily, underlining his appreciation for the quality of food with sounds that were quite familiar to those he made under other circumstances.

To ensure that Crowley was actually getting something in him, Aziraphale opted to feed him halfway through. It was amusing and a little lewd, especially when he started to press cherries into that delectable mouth. 

"Sated?"

Aziraphale reached out to pluck off the sunglasses and place them in the basket. Crowley held still while Aziraphale took them, eyes closed, smiling serently. The sun hit his face and it was warm and bright, but he didn't complain about that this time.

"Yes," he answered. "Thank you."

He finally opened his eyes to seek out Aziraphale, chasing him with a slow bob of his head. 

"And you? I should hope. I don't think I've ever heard such a symphony play with my meal before." 

Crowley inched closer and hugged Aziraphale, brushing their noses together. He wanted to say how he hoped Aziraphale would sing to him as such for every meal, that the delight of eating together when they were comfortable was almost akin to the carnal delights he took in good food. 

And it would not do to tarnish such happy thoughts of Aziraphale moaning around delicate pastries or greasy chips or anything for that matter with the thought that their previously imagined future might as well be dashed completely. Crowley needed to savor as Aziraphale savored a cherry or a pastry. 

He reached over held Aziraphale’s face, burying in against his soft warm neck and finding places yet he should plant his lips before the whole tapestry of Aziraphale's body had been properly mapped out. 

What a simple delight, really, such a kiss. Aziraphale’s basic needs of his mortal shell may have been sated but not the the deep, ever consuming desire to get as close as possible to his husband.

It was pathetic. They've been apart for merely a week, but if felt like it had been months. Aziraphale could not understand how he was fine all those years before, without the heat of another body, the press and pull while kissing. Simple rendezvous in a closet with a fellow cadet was one thing, but they always parted and they never  _ savored _ .

He didn't know Crowley back then.

"Mhh, I'm finished with lunch but I'm always in for a treat." He sighed happily and tilted his head to bear more of his neck. It was like the first time they came here. Time was slowing down and all worries were politely waiting outside of their little sanctuary. "I've missed you so much. I was craving for your touch. Pictured you every night..."

"And what delightful fantasies did you come up with every night?" Crowley mused, lightly grazing his teeth across Aziraphale's jaw while he worked on that unruly strip of fabric keeping him from the entirety of Aziraphale’s flesh, like a pious hand attempting to stall their copulation. "You know how much I love when you tell me."

Crowley wasn't quickly pawing at anything or shedding his own clothes. He was happy to take this time slower, to watch and listen and absorb in the moment that he might dissolve like sugar in water. The only important thing was to keep one hand somewhere on Aziraphale's person while his mouth roamed with teeth and lips to press against his husband's flesh. He wondered after the bruise he had put on Aziraphale's shoulder. Surely it must be faded, but perhaps a shadow of what it was before? Or maybe it needed to be replaced?

"At first, I thought about our last night together,” Aziraphale whispered, struggling to keep his voice up. “How you felt under me,  _ around _ me, so incredibly tight and responsive and...." He bit his lip and enjoyed the mental image for a moment. "...How I could have done more, seeing you unravel before me when I got to you with my tongue. "

Any chance to get a good use out of it as long as he was still coherent.

Crowley knew he could fluster Aziraphale, but was so appreciative for the effort he made to say it anyways. It made him want to put in the effort to do the same. To do really anything for him. 

"You would have loved if we had done it with the fireplace lit and the candles going, wouldn't you," Crowley teased, watching Aziraphale's hands work. 

"It would have been such a sight..."

"I imagined...all the things you like  _ me _ to do with my tongue, Angel. I hope you have not forgotten those talents."

Crowley grinned even wider, shifting slowly to settle between his legs, his chin resting now on Aziraphale's stomach and his head bent so his hair, still in need of a washing soon, fanned out along his back.

When mentioning his sinful tongue, Aziraphale moaned a little. He had thought about that too, quite often. He ducked his head to get a look at those unshielded eyes, his own half lidded.

"How could I forget about that? Say, what were you thinking of doing with it then? Maybe it'll match my thoughts about the matter..."

Crowley chuckled, tugging at Aziraphale's pants, concentrating on the buttons first, on undressing him and, the moment he saw skin, of smelling him deeply. He pressed his nose there at the beginning of his pubes and breathed, resting and taking in. It made him shake, honestly, and eager to move at last, he traveled down with tender kisses.

Ah, a demonstration was at hand.

Surely, Aziraphale should have been the one to get Crowley's mind off by doing things to him but this…. This was a prospect too good to let it slip away. He let his head fall back with a thud and closed his eyes, feeling Crowley's breath over his skin, his face pressed down against him.

Aziraphale started to breath a little faster.

Crowley smiled and nuzzled against his slacks where they were still bunched around his thighs. He got underneath that twitching need and nuzzled there too, playing with him by way of a teasing nose instead of tongue or lips.

God  _ damn _ him, Crowley needed this. 

He trailed up one now familiar side, lipping at a little vein there, and got up around Aziraphale’s glans, finally lapping at it. At last, at the top, he opened his eyes to check how Aziraphale was doing. Even if he was just breathing, he decided it was perfect. He loved this man and this sunlight and this hill.

And, surely, Aziraphale was breathing, though it started to get more on the side of panting. His lips were slightly parted and he watched Crowley through half lidded eyes. He moaned when that tongue was finally put to use and it made his legs tremble with the effort to not buck up.

Aziraphale was needy. God knew he was but he wouldn't say a word now. Crowley could do whatever he wanted; Aziraphale would be happy to give or take right now, everything to make him feel loved. He reached out with a hand to brush away Crowley’s hair, just petting him.

Crowley smiled, lowering his gaze at the affectionate pat, then lowered himself down, inch by inch, his tongue slithering across in a wide stripe down the neck as he stretched his jaw and opened his throat. He moaned all the way down to the bottom and stayed there, breathing quickly through his nose before he swallowed and carefully pulled himself back up. 

Another messy, wet kiss at the tip before Crowley was back down and soon finding a nice, steady rhythm. He even added his hand after a few good swallows, squeezing and twisting at the base, fingering a line down to cup Aziraphale’s balls and massage them.

This was new. Did Crowley read something on the matter or was he just turning his imagination to reality? He was very imaginative after all.

Whatever the reason, whatever the source of this inspiration, Aziraphale decided to indulge, reveling in the sensation and the slow build of heat in his core. He even allowed himself to buck his hips up a little to meet Crowley’s mouth halfway through.

Aziraphale fully gave up suppressing every little whine and moan, letting them slip out freely.

"I'm yours, Crowley, darling. Only yours!"

Crowley actually sank a little faster at hearing that and stayed at the base a little longer, his eyes squeezing shut. He pulled back up to pant and moan and then swallowed him with a new, almost voracious hunger. 

_ All mine, only mine, _ repeated in Crowley’s head and he was sure he'd have to trap this moment in amber.

Aziraphale had to fist the blanket now to anchor himself. The new pace was lighting him up like a candle, his thighs and abdomen starting to tense up and he wanted more. So much more of this.

"Only... _ hngg _ , only you can make me undone like this. My love, my-" 

Aziraphale was interrupted by a long moan.

Thank whomever in this strange world that Crowley had zero gag reflex. Couldn't eat dairy without getting sick, got queasy at blood, and still wouldn't eat meat - which had yet to earn him any favors with the livestock - but he was  _ made _ for taking Aziraphale down. 

That moan was sweet music. Fairly soon he'd be humping the ground just for a bit of friction to help himself, so turned on by the simple and  _ noisy _ love given over by his husband. A gift sent straight to him, taken on the tongue like a sacrament.

Aziraphale's back began to arch up from the blanket. He was close, so close the tremor in his body was unmistakable now and his legs twitched in a fruitless attempt to spread wider and hook around Crowley, due to the slacks that were just pulled down to his knees.

"C-Crowley! I'm close. I'm gonna...I…."

At the very least, he tried to warn Crowley. It was a courtesy. Aziraphale’s voice was already climbing octaves and he felt his cock leaking and twitching. Just another bob, another swallow and he would be done for.

Crowley considered a few options. One, pop off with a smile and get painted in the face, likely in his hair, and need to wash off in the pond again before they went inside only to see the mortified look on his father's face, which wouldn't help convince him of their new plans for the family businesses. 

Two, pop off and stroke him, angling  _ away _ from his face, which would paint Aziraphale's chest and stain his clothes, which meant a need to wash off in the pond again before they went inside to see the mortified look on  _ Aziraphale's _ face that he was caught as such without change of clothes and that seemed like the worst torture he could bestow on the man he loved. 

Or three. Stay on and suck him off until he orgasmed, doing his damn best to suck him dry. 

Crowley opted for the third, moaning with him and sealing his lips.

Well, since Crowley didn't make a move to get off of Aziraphale in time, the latter came in his husband's mouth with a long groan, his body twitching uncontrollably.

Crowley attempted. He really did. He stayed on Aziraphale and swallowed once before he pulled off and coughed repeatedly over the grass, spitting out. He went bright pink with embarrassment, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shaking his head a little. 

Some things take practice, is all. Crowley wasn't sure how to practice it, but he would.

Of course, Aziraphale wanted to look after him. He did! But Aziraphale could not move in the first waves of afterglow. And the poor thing had been choking on his seed, retching over the grass. It soured his orgasm slightly, even though Crowley tried to be quiet about it.

"Dear, the point of warning you is that you don't  _ have to _ swallow. I know that this isn't pleasant for everyone."

There was only a little bit of amusement in his voice. He got up and laid his hand on Crowley's shoulder, squeezing softly. The other hand came around with the bottle of wine as an offering.

"But your clothes," Crowley whined, coughing hard into his hand before he took the bottle and a nice long drink.

"I'm grateful for your consideration, but I could have just taken them off. Let's remember that for next time."

After a moment of recovery, Crowley returned to him, snuggling into Aziraphale, and pet his nice dry tummy. 

"That can't have been a good finish. Sorry about that. " 

Crowley rested his head down and closed his eyes, practically reclining against him. Aziraphale embraced him willingly, taking one of his hands to plant kisses on his palm.

"It was a very good orgasm. Don't sell yourself short! The things you do with that mouth should be  _ illegal _ ." He chuckled and pulled him a little closer. "What about you...?"

"Hmmm?" 

Crowley gently thumbed Aziraphale's lips after the kisses, humming his considerations. But he was nicely laying against Aziraphale and the sun was high in the sky. He found one of Aziraphale's hands and brought it closer to gently bite his fingertips. 

"This is good," he whispered sleepily, content to bask in the now.

"Whatever you desire, love."

Aziraphale chuckled and relaxed. Soon enough Crowley had to be thrown back into the harsh reality of his family's misfortune and loud arguments with his father, so he would give him everything he needed to unwind a little.

"Before you doze off, please let me get decent again. I really don't want to be found with my breeches down my knees by Shadwell. And I figure that the feeling is mutual."

So Aziraphale tugged himself in again and returned to cuddle his husband, trying to shield him from the world for a little longer.

Crowley chuckled and teased him to keep the trousers open, let himself get some nice sun and all and that he might idly pet him during their lunch, but he was equally glad to return to snuggling him, a little drunk, a lot in love. 

The hour or so slipped by the same as the sun and clouds and, after a time, sure enough, it was Shadwell that had come to collect them. 

"Afternoon, love birds," he said, panting up the hill. "Mr. Crowley?"

Crowley had decided to take a little nap on Aziraphale's lap and did not appear to want to be awakened. 

"Sure," Shadwell said to the beginning grumblings. "But your father asked me to come fetch you and we both know it's rather me to find you than him, so. Up and at 'em, gents."

"He's right, dear, and I know that you're awake." Aziraphale nudged him playfully in the shoulder and leaned down, so their faces were mere inches apart, whispering, "Or does this sleeping beauty in need of a wake-up kiss?"

It was only half a joke; kissing Crowley was always nice, but the presence of Shadwell might be embarrassing enough for Crowley to actually get up.

To not ignore the poor old chap, Aziraphale addressed him with a," I'll make sure he's ready. "

"See that you do," Shadwell said with an arched eyebrow of someone more like a nanny than their valet. He turned primly and started shambling back down the hill, cursing the incline and gravity.

Crowley sighed and rolled himself back up, stretching hard before he rubbed his eyes, shoving his fingers into the sockets. Where was his glasses? No, right, on the blanket.

"Sorry. I should have stayed awake. Poor conversationalist," he mumbled and grinned. "Did you like lunch, Angel?"

Aziraphale smiled dreamily and pecked him on the cheek. It was almost time for him to get back home now, which stung like an unpleasant stone in his shoe.

"It was good, especially dessert. I still feel a tad peckish for other things but that can wait," Aziraphale purred, trying to get that sinking feeling of leaving Crowley for the night out of his system.

They eventually collected their things and stood, holding out one hand for Crowley to take.

"You're feeling up to face your father again? Maybe I should still stay over, just for today?"

And Aziraphale would absolutely love to, now doubt. He would love to stay forever if it was possible. He just feared that, if he left Crowley's side, something might happen again. He would not forgive himself.

"I want you to stay," Crowley said, pressing his forehead against Aziraphale after they stood and remained still for a moment. He sighed and kissed Aziraphale’s brow right after. "But I don't want to keep you from your family. You just got back. And I'm certain."

Oh. There was a strange warble in his throat. Maybe Crowley needed another sip of wine to get it to smooth out. He cleared his throat instead and pressed on.

"You're going to need to get things in order before you go back to London, aren't you? Books and clothes and such. Don't want to let that fall behind."

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. 

He wanted to ensure Crowley that there was enough time and that everything would be fine until then. But would it be? Surely not. It did not mean that they had to part forever, sure, but it was like something out there was testing their devotion to one another.

"You know that you can send word and I'll be here. I will ensure that we can see each other as often as possible, even if it's just for a short time, alright?"

“While you’re in town?”

“...Yes. Yes, while I’m in town. Crowley….”

Crowley simply kissed his palm and dropped them, standing fully and righting his outfit again. He tugged Aziraphale along, starting to make their way back before Nathaniel could come crashing in on them.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said more stubbornly, holding Crowley’s hand. “I'll make sure to get everything set for  _ us _ in London. You won't have any right to complain about the interior though."

Crowley laughed through his nose, closing his eyes as they walked together. 

"May I complain about the sheets?" he teased, just to get some words out and prove he could still speak normally. 

It did indeed feel like a test. The distance. The...not...being together...forever. As they dreamed.

The couriers were fast between their houses, at least, and they both had pen and ink to send messages. It wasn't impossible and it wasn't cut off forever. It just felt...daunting.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale by the barn again, soft and sweet and lingering, before he took the basket from Aziraphale’s hands. Newton may have seen some of it, accidentally, because there was a little "oop" nearby and then he was gone to go tend to something that needed serious and undivided attention on the opposite side of the barn as them. 

Crowley offered to help Aziraphale up onto his horse at least and see him to the road to make sure he was well on his way. Aziraphale happily agreed to be seen off. 

Truthfully, neither of them really cared what Newton Pulscifer saw or didn’t see. At this point, the whole Starbright estate might be aware of what was going on between them, except Nathaniel.

Aziraphale stole a final kiss, feeling like one of those overly romantic illustrations of knights departing from their beloved maiden. Would Crowley wave a banner for him, a small token of his devotion? His scarf, perhaps? Aziraphale must entertain himself with these thoughts as he rode off.

It was not fair. Aziraphale knew that both of them were at a point where they would do anything for their love, but leaving the family in ruin after running off… If he’d ever come across Hastur he would punch his stupid grumpy face for sure.

**-**

It was a rather nice reprieve, wasn't it? A moment? And though the day wore on in the same fashion as the morning, that little moment they shared in the afternoon could tide him over.   
  
Crowley found himself back in the library at the end of the day, in front of the fire, the bottle tucked in safely in his lap this time as Shadwell said he wasn't cleaning up another spill and was threatening him with tying Crowley to his bed at some point. Crowley accused him of flirting and Shadwell accused him of idiocy as he found his own chair and they sat in semi-drunken silence for the rest of the evening.

Slowly. Carefully. Perhaps even miraculously, he was sure he had picked away at the deals, suffered the brunt of Nathaniel Starbirght's anger over Hastur and the headache he had left behind. Nathaniel Starbright was not a cruel man, but had a poor way of showing his kindness of late. Perhaps they would lose productions on flintlocks and blades, and maybe there would be more plots of chamomile and greenhouses to boot. There was hope that an offer would be heading to the Fell household for one of the production lines, as their somewhat tempered alliance seemed like they would make ideal partners. 

Maybe. Crowley cradled his head in the quiet and thought.  _ Maybe. _ It could work out.

**-**

Back home, Aziraphale was pestered by his parents about London and the Starbrights. Constanze was shocked to hear about the state of her new friend and walked off to get an urgent note to her personal physician. Father even asked if there was something to be done from his side, but Aziraphale assured him that this was not the best idea and that they would contact the Starbrights when it was absolutely dire. Thought Aziraphale was certain Mr. Starbright would not accept that proposition.

On top of everything, Aziraphlae was informed that Michael would come back home tomorrow. What a delight, really.

He sighed and got some things done but only halfheartedly. Most of his mind was occupied with concern about Crowley and the burning desire to just go back to him. Gabriel came in for a visit even, asking in more detail about what had happened. He showed real sympathy. At one point, his brother patted Aziraphale’s shoulder, if a little too heavy handed.

For the rest of the evening, Aziraphale just wanted to be alone. He skipped dinner to avoid further questions from his family, feigning his need to get his affairs in order.

Instead, he was standing at his open window, playing with the ring that he’d put back on his finger. Some part of him hoped to see Crowley coming up the tree, but that would not happen. It was more likely that he was sitting in front of the fireplace again, head in his hands and exhausted…. 

Aziraphale sighed heavily and turned to tuck himself into bed. There was no use to stand there yearning. He had to be strong now, for both of them. If God was ever planning anything, like they told them in church, Aziraphale hoped dearly that the one for him and Crowley would have a happy ending at least.


	16. A Knock, A Knock, A Knock at the Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward moment where they're interrupted in the middle of sex and have a tense giggle afterwards.

Aziraphale was sitting in a carriage, taking him homewards. It wasn’t his current residence. He was living in London now for one and a half months, but it still didn’t feel like home. To be a home would need the partner it was so sorely missing.

Somehow, they’d made it through all this mess to this point but not without many sacrifices. They had seen each other a whole amount of three times since Aziraphle started his business. Many people may have suggested that this was more than enough, that other couples had to wait over half a year or more to get a chance to meet again. Double that if perhaps one of them was on an expedition or sent out with whatever battalion he served. But for Aziraphale and Crowley, they had no patience for it and no want to extend their time apart. 

Married people should be together. This might not have been something official for the world but for them, for Aziraphale, it was even more than that.

When they had the chance to finally meet, there were still the things a head of the family had to do and time was a rare commodity. But they managed to steal some of it, getting in their own little bubble of intimate togetherness for several hours before they were torn apart again. For the time in between there were a copious amount of letters. If anyone would ever dare to open one and get a read, Aziraphale was sure that their ears would burn off immediately and their eyes turn to molten lead. At least, he dreamed as such, a ward against the intimate language he saved for his beloved.

It was already late afternoon when he could finally see the Starbright mansion coming closer. It was getting colder and the sun was setting already. Aziraphale didn’t bother to visit his own family first. Gabriel knew what was going on and his parents thought that he was harboring a deep friendship to the now-heir of their former rival.

He would see them the day after tomorrow or something, really. They wouldn’t even know Aziraphale was home if Gabriel hadn’t been writing with him too. Aziraphale had a strange suspicion he was using Aziraphale as practice, as his letters gained a sort’ve flourish to them over time. Perhaps he wanted to write to a certain Miss Mouche.

But, such a distant concern, really, as Aziraphale really needed to see his husband again, whisking him away to a room and not letting him go for the rest of his stay.

Crowley had mentioned that his cousin would visit around the same time as well, so there was a fair chance that their time was even more limited than usual. Not that Beatrice would occupy their time on purpose.

Finally, the carriage stopped and Azirphale stepped out as fast as dignity allowed it.

There was not another carriage waiting outside, so no hint that Miss Mouche was staying with them, and many of the candles were not lit so it seemed rather dark inside. Even Shadwell wasn't there for his usual greeting, though that could be chalked up to the now twice-weekly visits he had with one very nice Mrs. Tracy of the Fell residence. It seemed their houses were joining together in more ways than one. A third, even, from the friendship struck up between Constanze and Lillian.

Some young bloke answered the door for Aziraphale, giving him a bow and asking him to state his business at the house, since it was just getting on that they were to prepare for supper. He was, in fact, the same nice young man who had been folding laundry and helping around the estate. Many tasks were being doubled up by people until they could hire more help, with rumors that there had finally been a chance to receive letters of recommendation and someone might finally be joining them again soon.

Aziraphale greeted the young man with the rest of patience he could muster, telling the servant who he was and that he would very much appreciate to be announced but that he would also be amenable to wait somewhere until the patres familias were finished. It would mean to wait a little longer, but that would be alright. He could already hear faint voices and take in the now familiar scent. As he was at least let in, he started to shrug out of his traveling coat, so his hands had something to be occupied with.

There were indeed louder noises after Aziraphale was inside. Not necessarily anything dangerously unhappy, though Nathaniel still had not figured out how to have a conversation with his son without devolving into a shouting match, the idea being that whomever was the loudest was the most correct and therefore the winner. A kind man, really. Really, in his heart, but a poor communicator has a hard time sharing such things at the surface. 

Crowley, unfortunately, tried to hold out and speak reasonably, but was dragged into them anyways by the end. It just seemed the best way to get to the point and move on. He had to gain some traits from his father, surely.

Aziraphale was led over to the sitting room and was about to be asked another silly question by the poor boy covering for Shadwell when a familiar shadow graced the wall.

"My, is it already been over a fortnight?" Lillian asked, stepping into the room with what looked like a book from the library for some late afternoon reading. She set it down immediately and went to go hug Aziraphale.

Lillian always increased his mood many times over and he accepted her hug happily, trying not to squeeze too tight in his joy when returning it.

“Already does not put it right for me. More like finally. You look lovely as ever. No, I have to say that you might be getting even more beautiful every time we meet again.”

He beamed at her and put her delicate hands between his own. Lillian accepted his hug and his happiness, taking one hand free to cup his cheek.

“I hear that nothing has changed so far. At least he’s eating. Well...he’s attempting to do so, if they would stop talking for a bit. Anything new? Where’s Shadwell?”

"You. You worry so. You're going to give yourself a fit," she teased and lightly pinched his cheek.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale answered and laughed brightly. “You’re looking so well.”

“As you said,” she answered, and patted him. 

In truth, yes, she had recovered nicely from her little bout in bed and was feeling stronger and more refreshed as the days passed since their eldest son's departure. She had Aziraphale sit with her, holding his hands as he held hers. 

"Don't worry. We'll bully them both into a proper dinner.

"Shadwell," she said with a little tsk of her tongue, her eyebrows raised up towards her fine untamed hair, "is actually at your parent's, I believe. Or wherever it is him and Mrs. Tracy go off to during their time together. I'm sure you can ask her all about it. Met her once and she was perfectly spritely."

He laughed heartily, imagining Tracy spilling all about the courtship. It looked like their romance had triggered some kind of chain reaction. Aziraphale would very much like to see the catalyst for such changes, but he’d have to wait for Crowley to escape the study.

“What were you reading?” he asked as another distraction. “Oh! This reminds me! I brought a little something for you...” He was rummaging through his coat until he pulled out a book, looking fairly new. “It’s from a young author. I think it’s her third published work. I don’t know if you already enjoyed any of her previous novels, but I thought it might be the case with this one. It’s a romance.”

He had grown the habit of bringing books with him that might be of any interest to Crowley or Lilliana, ranging from scientific text, classics to fiction.

Lillian beamed as she took the book, turning it over. 

"Jane Austen? And a romance. Perfect choice again, Aziraphale." Her eyes crinkled with her smile and she flipped it open to read the first page of the manuscript.

Before she could continue, there were footsteps rushing down the hall and suddenly the doors were open. One very lean, very darkly-dressed gentleman was pulling Aziraphale from the couch and hugging him up tightly, kissing him immediately even with his mother present. Crowley wrapped him up and laughed against his shoulder, squeezing him hard. 

Lillian scooted a little to the left and continued reading, her eyebrows raising once more in amusement and her lips pursed to hold a smile from breaking out too far, too obvious. Aziraphlae made a surprised but happy sound, clinging to Crowley’s lapels to not topple over. 

"Sam just said you arrived," Crowley said, and kissed Aziraphale again. "Have you been back long?"

“I just came here straight from London. My family will be able to bear to wait one or two days longer.”

He kissed Crowley’s cheek as well, bouncing with excitement. It was a delight to be greeted by Lillian but being scooped up in his husband's arms was sheer bliss. He cupped his cheeks and smiled brightly, trying to take in every little detail of this handsome face in his hands.

“I missed you so intensely, I couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

Aziraphale whispered the last bit, not because his mother-in-law was present but just because, though perhaps it was that his voice was bordering on being wobbly from an onslaught of emotions.

“How have you been? I read your letters, but I want to hear it from you. Do you have some free time now?”

Aziraphale was a simple creature, at heart. He wanted a cuddle, to comb through Crowley’s hair and snog him until he didn’t know his own name anymore.

Crowley nodded and kissed him again, nearly toppling him over anyways. He pulled back and kissed Aziraphale’s hands, then bent to kiss his mother's cheek as well, who, stopped him with the new book Aziraphale had given her, laughing behind it. 

"Ah. Save those for Aziraphale, Little Crow."

Crowley laughed and pecked the top of her head. 

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I want you both out of this room and away from everyone until dinner. Mother's orders," she said and sat back, opening the book again. "Shoo. I want to read in peace."

But she was grinning, even if she didn't look at them.

Crowley took Aziraphale's hands and started to pull him away, staying dangerously close with the threat of tangling their legs and tripping each other.

Lillian was a blessing and Aziraphale had to thank her for that later. Now, he was trying very hard to not fall up the stairs with an over-eager Crowley. 

When they arrived in Crowley’s room - miraculously unharmed - he almost literally jumped his husband, flinging his arms around his shoulders and kissing him fiercely. They had almost a practiced dance now, shedding clothes from door to bed, until they were in shirt and pants and lying against each other. Aziraphale sighed contently into each kiss; the taste of those familiar lips was intoxicating, like the first time he tasted them. All in all, it was much like it had been when they confessed their love for each other, something that felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.

Azirpahale crowded Crowley against the mattress, maneuvering them without any effort or bumping into something. He knew this room by heart now.

“Finally. Finally it’s the real you.” Aziraphale panted when he pulled back to take a breath.

Crowley was grinning madly against him, nuzzling up against him while Aziraphale panted for breath. 

"I must apologize for the ghost of me that stole my place," he whispered, chasing a pattern around Aziraphale’s cheeks, his eyebrows.

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“I mean the ugly thing that was Crowley before. You’ve made me reborn again by your mere presence.”

It seemed like Crowley's hands couldn't still and he needed to kiss his husband's cheeks and neck again and again just to be certain it was real. 

"I'm afraid you're trapped here, Angel."

“Oh no! Captured by a breathtaking scoundrel and locked up in this room with him. However will I ever get myself out of this predicament?” He laughed and feigned swooning before returning to the task of getting Crowley’s vest completely out of the way, unstrung yes but still annoyingly trapped on his shoulders. “Whatever will my captor do to me?”

Aziraphale nuzzled his cheek and kissed the shell of Crowley’s ear tenderly. He loved this little pointless banter, the lightheartedness in it. All he wanted now was to be held and to hold, to ensure himself that he was not dreaming, but this was real and good.

"You'll get lashed to the bedding and marked on every piece of skin, I'm afraid. You will, however, be fed by your captor and be ridden like that good fellow Lazarus you love so dearly."

Crowley stretched and shifted as Aziraphale found his own places to kiss. He laughed at an accidental tickle, then turned and did the same back to Aziraphale, but with his tongue instead of his lips. Aziraphale giggled, for the prospect of his capricious fate and the tickling on his ear.

"I missed you so much," Crowley whispered seriously with a softer smile. "Your musk disappears too quickly from the paper and I will smudge the ink if I keep falling asleep with them in my bed instead of you."

When Crowley mentioned the way he used to read his letters, Aziraphale melted into their embrace, facing him with a slightly wobbly smile and watery eyes. The mental image of him, falling asleep like so, was more than endearing.

“Oh Crowley, love, I think I should let you have something else to remind you of me then.  _ God _ , I missed you too. The yearning was so strong that I thought I heard your steps when someone entered the bookshop. I had to sit down afterwards.”

Aziraphale kissed his nose, then his mouth, very softly. He wanted all, the soft and tender touches and the rough and urgent coupling. Everything at once.

“I do wear the ring whenever I’m not at my parents, see? I was already asked about my wife by a customer. Told him they were currently in Spain.”

Crowley's smile matched the fragile expression on Aziraphale's face. He pressed against him, dangerously close to tears. 

"A real wonder, that Angella. God, I'd have half a mind to name a daughter after her."

Crowley wormed his hands in their usual journey up Aziraphale's shirt, to warm them against his chest.

"I have not removed your ring either. Father even asked after it once, but we ended up talking about the fireplace. The damn grate was apparently not to his liking. Stupid  _ ass _ ." 

He smoothed the natural wrinkling between his brows and nuzzled back in again, finding his comforts. Crowley was too close to see that Nathaniel’s discomfort needed to land somewhere other than his son for a change.

“Let’s not talk about that right now. A daughter...well that would be lovely, actually.”

Aziraphale was sure that Crowley would be a loving father, pampering his children and shower them with love, showing them all the mischievous things possible. It was a little sad that this would be something not possible for them, but it wasn’t too depressing. They had each other. That was everything he could have ever asked for and more.

In their quiet musing of impossible offspring, Aziraphale got both his hands in Crowley’s hair, starting to massage his scalp.

“Up to a little nap before dinner?”

"Nnngh," he answered in kind, melting atop Aziraphale. The massage undid every thought left in his head. 

The red hair was just a little longer, two months of growth. Crowley could braid it up much easier and it was almost past his shoulders. He wore it loose for this exact occasion.

The tension went right out of them both and Crowley agreed to a nice snuggly nap.

Aziraphale chuckled, watching the slumped form on his chest bouncing a little because of his laughter. Even though things had settled down, all of this was still taking so much out of Crowley that Aziraphale tried to make him relax whenever possible. He kept on massaging his scalp until the redhead was softly snoring and kept on idly playing with his hair before sleep and exhaustion overcame him as well.

The best thing was, he would wake up with Crowley in his arms and it wouldn't be a dream this time.

**-**

There was a gentle knock on the door from Lillian before anyone else came to find them for dinner. She wanted to give them as much time to wake up and get presentable.

Crowley had spooned Aziraphale during their nap, breathing deep and soft against him. But he managed to catch the sound and hummed, smoothing his hand up across Aziraphale's skin, petting his stomach and smiling when he also realized this was real. He should have guessed. Resting. Dreamless. Feeling warm and held. The only answer was that he was back with his husband again.

"Hmmm, are you hungry?" Crowley whispered, breathing deeply against his neck.

"Mhh. What kind of a question is that?"

Aziraphale was only half awake and not ready at all to get up again. To his own surprise, he didn't feel hungry. At least not for food.

"Actually...I'm not. Shocking, I know. Do you think we could just stay here?"

Crowley smiled and pressed in tight against him. "For the rest of the evening, Angel," he whispered and kissed along his neck. He started to rub Aziraphale’s shoulders and shifted lazily around him to rub down his back. When he found a spot that seemed contentious, Crowley smoothed it out. He imagined Aziraphale hunched over a desk while reading something. If only he could be there to massage him in London. Save him the aches of travelling back in his carriage.

"It's decided then. We won't set a foot out of this bed." He hummed and leaned in to the touch, sighing in relief when Crowley got that nasty tension out of him. " _ Oh _ that's  _ lovely _ . I..I don't want to be too demanding but...would you mind massaging me a little more? I fell asleep in my chair one too many times I'm afraid."

"Chairs do not make good beds," Crowley admonished with a little tsk. Like he didn't fall asleep in the chair in the library more times a week than he didn't. "Let me take care of you."

Crowley shifted up and had Aziraphale tip over to lay flat on his stomach. And while his efforts were valiant, after a time, Crowley ended up just petting him and constantly distracted by Aziraphale’s shoulder or back or the back of his head. Surely the intimacy of it made up for his half-hearted massage anyways.

He didn't know how long it had been that he was tending and cuddling Aziraphale, long enough that he got up to light a lantern, knowing he would want to keep seeing Aziraphale as late in the evening as possible.

Aziraphale hummed contentedly and turned on his side when Crowley got up to light the lantern. His shirt was already rugged up in most places and Aziraphale tugged at it, thinking about losing it altogether. He watched Crowley moving and bit his lip while thinking about something particular. He had thought about that the whole ride.

"Dearest, I know that I might come off as selfish again but…. There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Hmm?" 

Crowley tossed the spent match into his fireplace and sauntered back over, climbing back into Aziraphale’s embrace and kissing him before he pressed for more. He rubbed Aziraphale's arm, trying to see if he could spy whatever emotion was going on and what it might entail.  _ Selfish? _ That could be good. It could be bad. 

Crowley sat back to uncross his eyes and tried to look mostly hopeful.

"What is it?"

Aziraphale was playing with the collar of Crowley’s shirt, his eyebrows knitted together while he thought about how to ask for what he wanted.

"I imagined something for quite a while. If we engage in more carnal activities tonight, mind you  _ if _ , would there be a chance that you're the one that...takes me apart this time?"

There. He said it.

They talked about this sometimes, especially when Crowley was talking dirty to him, which he was fabulously good at when he was so inspired. Sometimes it cropped up in the letters where they shared some fantasies to ease the pain of being apart for so long. Most of the time though, Aziraphale felt like he had to take care of Crowley and make everything as nice as possible for him.

It didn't mean that he wasn't enjoying himself, oh good Lord no, he loved to wreck his husband, see him coming undone under his touch. Crowley was a vision, truly. But this distance was straining and sometimes Aziraphale wanted to just forget about anything himself and just give in to pleasure.

Crowley was always eager to please, but also anxious of doing something wrong, so Aziraphale had dropped that idea as long as he could. He was now tracing the skin on Crowley's chest that was visible through his open collar, looking up at him through his lashes.

Crowley watched him fiddle and work his way through his request.  _ Carnal activities. _ Oh, if that nap was for anything other than to save up for  _ carnal activities _ he would eat his slippers. 

He grinned slowly, taking one of Aziraphale's wandering hands and tugging it up to kiss his palm. 

Then the underside of his fingertips.

Then the fingertips themselves, before he slid two of them into his mouth and moaned around them, nodding his head slightly which caused him to bob on those digits.

Aziraphale watched his fingers sink into the wet heat he adored so much, sighing happy and beaming at his husband. Why had he been so hesitant in the first place? He poked his fingers a little against the skillful tongue that was waiting in there.

Crowley lapped at him and pulled off, grinning, touching his forehead to Aziraphale's knuckles.

And stayed there for a moment, simply nuzzling in against the bone.

"Let's get you undressed," Crowley whispered.

They were nearly already there, just a few scant clothes left. The shirt was practically gone anyways and though Aziraphale had been pondering it, Crowley finally divested him of it, tossing it towards the pile they had started near the door.

Once it was gone, it was an unfortunate distraction. All of that lovely skin there, it just could not be ignored. Crowley leaned in and began to kiss his chest, his stomach, his hands wandering to hold him, to grab him a little closer.

Aziraphale didn't mind this kind of distraction at all. He enjoyed it. He loved the brush of lips over his heated skin and the undivided attention. He threaded his hand in Crowley’s hair, playing with it again and closing his eyes to bask in the love that was practically radiating from his husband.

"I know I said it before, but how is it possible that I deserve you...?"

He was talking more to himself when watching Crowley work down his torso.

“I feel the same," Crowley whispered affectionately, nosing near his belly button. He glanced up with a softer smile. "Nobody else would stand all this... hmm." 

He turned and licked Aziraphale’s skin instead of finishing his thoughts, his fingers already working away at Aziraphale’s trousers. Crowley blushed at the memory of his first time with Aziraphale, fumbling his way through. He felt very similar to that now and did not want his nerves to be known, so he got Aziraphale's trousers open, down to his knees, and nuzzled against the warmth between his legs.

There was a small suspicion that Crowley was nervous, obviously. Aziraphale knew him well enough by now not to ignore it. He hummed and tugged on the long hair, just so to let it get a little tingly for Crowley.

"Take your time. I'm up to whatever you're planning to do with me. I recall something about being a captive?"

Crowley dropped his head to Aziraphale's thigh and giggled. He nodded, too, and looked up, biting his lip until he could pull a serious face.

"Oh yes, indeed. I've finally managed to capture  _ the _ Mr. Fell. Poor boy, you're now at my mercy."

As he was speaking, Crowley sat up and somewhat roughly pulled Aziraphale’s trousers down the rest of the way, taking them off his feet and tossing them. He returned only to kiss his way up in apology for yanking his pants away, ignoring any prize won between Aziraphale’s thighs and all the way up to his face.

"I managed,  _ finally _ , to procure a bottle of oil from a merchant, though I've hardly had energy to try it much and I don't think it's as fine as yours," he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips. "And, mm...will you help me? Walk me through if I'm doing it right?"

Crowley was too precious, worrying about something like the wrong brand of lubricant, really. Aziraphale caressed his cheek with the back of his hand and nipped at Crowley’s bottom lip before answering.

“I will. Don’t worry too much; you always take such good care of me. You should give yourself more credit.” He kissed Crowley’s cheek and nosed up from Crowley’s ear, sucking at his earlobe. “Such a shame you couldn’t use it much. I pictured you doing it to yourself quite often….”

The sound Crowley made was embarrassing and obscene, dropping down against Aziraphale’s neck. 

"Angel. Such a wicked thought." 

Crowley was remiss to leave him again, but he had to get up so he could go fetch the bottle, leaving Aziraphale spread out on his mattress. The lubricant was in a plain clear flask with a little cork stopper, barely a centimeter missing from the top. He held it in his hands, slightly rubbing the bottle to warm it with his natural heat, and crawled back up from the foot of his bed on his knees. 

"I must admit," Crowley began, shifting Aziraphale's legs so he could settle between them. "I've been curious to see how you'd look under me. When we...like this." He uncorked the bottle and tipped some of it onto his fingers, smearing it around and pushed one of Aziraphale’s thighs so he'd drape his knee over Crowley's shoulder. "I'm glad, I mean, that I lit the lantern. So I can see my captive."

Aziraphale watched Crowley preparing himself with a giddy anticipation, biting his bottom lip. His arms were flung above his head so he could hold on to the pillow if needed.

“I hope I can live up to the expectation, then.”

Oh Aziraphale had pictured this as well. Crowley might still be more inexperienced, but he made up for it with much enthusiasm and love. Oh how he wanted to be held down by these long and sinew arms, feeling the long fingers working him open and….

Aziraphale could feel his cock twitch in anticipation. Maybe he should stop thinking about this too much or he would be too worked up soon.

Crowley saw the subtle twitch and settled himself in closer, his knees working underneath Aziraphale's thighs to raise him up a little more. He rubbed the leg over his shoulder with his dry hand and kissed everything near his own cheek.

"You always do," Crowley answered. 

As Aziraphale was naked and on display, Crowley tried his best to look into his eyes, to let him be seen and hopefully feel safe instead of vulnerable. He started with a finger sliding down the raphe, leaving a trail of oil that would drip as he pressed a teasing finger against Aziraphale's rim. Another little kiss to his knee while he started to massage and slightly spread his cheeks, mostly just painting Aziraphale with oil until Crowley had to reapply to his fingers and finally,  _ finally, _ attempted to press into him.

It was already wonderful. Crowley was so tender and cautious with him, it made his heart swell with love even more. Aziraphale had tried to be as tempting as possible but it was hard to keep that up with all this softness.

As soon as Crowley’s grazed his skin, Aziraphale had to gasp softly, a jolt of lightning shooting through his body, up his spine and down into his toes. He had been starving to be touched like this again. Aziraphlae pressed his hips up against the finger, feeling like his patience was running thin. He let himself go and moaned unconstrained, nudging his husband a little closer with his foot that was resting on his back. If Crowley only knew how Aziraphale did this when he was alone. Maybe he should show him sometime.

"Want more?" Crowley asked softly, noting the nudge of his husband's ankle.

Crowley was already leaning so close, he needed only to nudge with his own hip a bit to help add some pressure as he pressed in to the full length of his finger. He didn't move beyond that, just watching. He could feel when Aziraphale tensed, so close, just a small union of them both so far and it was breathtaking.

He rubbed Aziraphale's leg. 

"Should I move? Where's that...hmmm...that spot." Crowley did start to move then, a gentle seeking prod in hopes of finding his prostate like Aziraphale did for him.

“Please do, just a little furth.... _ ah _ . Th-there, right there!”

He let his eyes fall shut when Crowley’s long finger grazed the sensitive spot. It was already ten times better than doing this himself, the angle was far easier and Crowley’s fingers were longer and something so new. Aziraphale started to whimper a little and moved his hips again.

“Move, please move. And, ah, you can add...add another one.”

Surely, Aziraphale sounded like a needy brat. It was just so wonderful, really, and he couldn’t care less. Right now he was a very needy brat indeed.

Lucky for him, Crowley could not love it more that Aziraphale vocalized what he wanted. Crowley smiled warmly, and pulled out just to press in two fingers and started to thrust his fingers, occasionally getting his fingers to hook just right to hit his prostate.

"Is that so? And still telling me what to do? Look at you. I’m supposed to be the captor, you know.” Crowley chuckled and bumped Aziraphale’s knee affectionately. “Enough oil?"

“Yes. Yes, yes, enough.”

“Oh?”

Crowley stopped moving and Aziraphale groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“No, enough oil, my dear. Please.  _ Please _ , Crowley, more.”

“Oh.” Crowley chuckled and continued working his fingers again. 

It was so nice to be filled by someone else, and the stretch was wonderful but soon, not enough. Aziraphale moaned lewdly, firstly because he really felt like it and secondly because he wanted to see what effect it would have on Crowley. It was a nice and a steady tease, enough to fuel that precious heat in Aziraphale’s guts but not quite enough to bring him over the edge. He was already dripping though, he could feel it pooling on his belly. He tried to not thrust down on Crowley’s fingers too much, but he couldn’t help it. 

“Nngh, enough.” Crowley stopped instantly. “But I want more Crowley. God, please  _ fuck  _ me already.”

Crowley blushed bright red when Aziraphale asked him. He was so beautifully vocal, it zapped straight through Crowley like a bolt. He glanced away, biting his lip and then pulled his fingers out so he could lean over and kiss Aziraphale.

"Let me get undressed."

“Hurry,” Aziraphale whined.

Crowley sat back, watching Aziraphale as he tore off his own shirt and even stood to remove his trousers. He felt a little eager, but by Aziraphale's needy noises, he thought he couldn't move fast enough and came crashing into him again for another equally needy, lingering kiss before Crowley finally,  _ finally _ got himself ready.

Aziraphale chuckled into the kiss, embracing Crowley with a matching eagerness and hooking his legs around his waist, pulling him in. He loved that man, wholeheartedly. 

The kiss was wonderful, but Aziraphale finally felt so empty that he nudged Crowley closer, panting in his ear.

Crowley curved his body so he created a loose "c" against Aziraphale, grinning all the while against him. He needed to get oil again, trembling with anticipation as he slicked his hand up and down his erection. 

"I don't know I've seen you like this before," Crowley whispered, happily pressed against Aziraphale. "God, you're lovely, Angel."

Crowley was shaking more and too focused looking down, holding himself, and ensuring he was lined up right, with a little gentle thrust to get past that now-slick ring of muscle.

“As are you, my dear, you are….” 

Aziraphale panted back before it trailed off into a whine when Crowley finally pushed in. He tensed up for a second but relaxed quite easily. There was a slight strain but it only added to the overall nice feeling of being filled again. Aziraphale placed one hand on Crowley’s nape. He needed something to hold on to, while pushing himself down a little more.

Crowley could not help but to sink further, dragged in by his excitement. He leaned closer, kissing Aziraphale’s forehead as he bottomed out inside him.

"A _ zira _ phale," he whispered, panting harder. "Shit...love." 

He had to steal another kiss, shivering as his fists tightened on the mattress next to Aziraphale’s head. He needed a moment to adjust before he pulled back out and attempted a slow thrust.

Aziraphale mewled sweetly, reveling in the feeling of getting filled up by Crowley so thoroughly. It had been ages since he had done it this way, but he couldn’t remember that it ever felt so good. So right. Crowley could even be rougher with him and Aziraphale would feel naught but the tender love and devotion in each touch.

They had needed this so badly, to be this close, joined. Soon they would be apart again, not even able to hold hands or brush a soft kiss and Aziraphale wanted to savor every moment.

“So good. Crowley, darling, so good. So good! You feel so marvelous.”

Aziraphale was babbling again, just too caught up in the feeling.

“By God, please fuck me. Fuck me good, dearest.”

Crowley answered with a whimper. This was so much different than a simple fist or occasionally Aziraphale's talented mouth. He thought he was prepared.

After a moment, a deep, deep breath, Crowley moved faster. His knees slipped and he brought them up suddenly, holding Aziraphale's thighs and lifting his buttocks off the mattress and folding him as he started to really rock into him.

Every so often, Crowley’s eyes threatened to slide shut in the desperate euphoria surrounding them, but he grunted and opened them so he could watch every blessed twitch and moan and emotion on Aziraphale's face.

Aziraphale was struggling with his eyes as well, trying desperately to see how Crowley moved, moving from his face and down to their bodies joined and back up to his beautiful eyes again. His hips had an unusual roll that hit all the right spots perfectly. A wonder, that exquisitely flexible spine. His hand on the nape was still there, clinging to Crowley for dear life while the other had migrated down between his own legs where he started stroking himself. He tried to match Crowley's rhythm.

Between all the unadulterated moaning, whining and whatnot he called out for Crowley, encouraging him with telling how good he felt, how he made him complete and loved.

The heat built up more and more, Aziraphale grinding down onto Crowley and thrusting into his hand with erratic need. His ability to speak was nearly gone. He was close, so close that he already started to clench down on Crowley inside him.

Crowley groaned so sweetly, his body a wave above him with a slightly more feverish pace. With the panting and cries, they were lucky that the family was having dinner and his room was at the back of the house.

"Aziraphale," he whispered reverently, savoring the name on his tongue.

Crowley shifted just enough and managed to wrap his hand around Aziraphale's hand as well, working his cock with a now almost brutal pace.

"Beautiful. You're so...oh  _ God _ ."

Crowley closed his eyes unintentionally and pressed their foreheads together to stay close when he noticed Aziraphale beginning to tense around him. Such a good squeeze now, it was almost too much.

That hand over his own was what made that searing heat inside taking over into an actual fire that spread over Aziraphale’s body.

"Crowley.... Crowley!"

It was the last thing Aziraphale managed to get out before he keened, coming over their joined hands and tensing up with the spasms that ripped through him.

Crowley moaned with him, stilling when Aziraphale clenched down. He was pressed in tightly, smashing their bodies against each other so his seed was smeared against both their naked stomachs.

The moaning masked the distant footsteps and an even more distant,  _ oh, let them be. _ Crowley kissed Aziraphale's neck through his orgasm, just holding him, feeling him, experiencing their unity in each tense breath. In a moment, just a moment more, Crowley could start moving again and chase after his own release. So close it hurt, but so sweet like this that he did not mind the delayed burn of it all.

"...if he's well enough to make such a damn racket, he can come to-"

Crowley forgot to lock the door. 

They had no need to, when they were undressing, climbing into bed for their nap and eventually entwined like this with his lamp burning on the table directly next to them to light them up!

Nathaniel turned the latch and threw the door open, expecting to find the two gentlemen potentially next to each other but clothed and maybe even arguing with all the racket they were making.

The sound Crowley made when he heard his father's voice somewhere behind him was inhuman, small, almost like the whisper of his soul escaping when he was so close to an orgasm that it hurt.

There was maybe three seconds for images to coalesce into a story and the door banged shut.

Aziraphale was in the middle of his afterglow, just slowly coming down and anticipating that delightful finish when Crowley  _ withered _ . Crowley continued that terrible strangled noise and Aziraphale’s response was to petrify, tensing up even more and clinging to his lover with wide eyes.

Even after the door was closed again, Aziraphale couldn't move. It seemed like neither could Crowley.

"Oh…. Fuck."

Crowley was an amazing shade of red, so brightly hued that it was almost the same color of his hair. He tried breathing, but it was some soupy mixture of panic and laughter. And a neat little seed of rage with no outlet until he untangled to go shout at his father or beat himself up for not locking the door. Both seemed viable options.

"Aziraphale," he whispered. It sounded too close to a moan to be appropriate, but he had been so goddamn close. "I...forgot.... I forgot the...."

Aziraphale swallowed, his throat dry and strained from all the moaning.His answer was quite breathless, an octave too high.

"Figured that."

Then he started laughing. Uncontrollably. His whole body shook and trembled with it, while he still clung to Crowley.

Crowley was on the verge of panic, but watching Aziraphale begin to laugh, clinging to him, he could not stave off the feeling either and he laughed against him. He laughed hard, until they were both a giggling mess. 

It was ridiculous! But at least now his dense father couldn't make sideways comments about Crowley and his "friend."

"Oh my god," Crowley whispered breathlessly, giggling into Aziraphale's neck.

Now the whole Starbright household knew what was going on and Aziraphale couldn't care less about that. Sure, it was mortifying and very undignified to be caught in the act, but at least they were together in this. And any unfortunate outcome of this evening could wait, be it fire and brimstone or awkward silence or, miracle of miracles, acceptance.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley finally while rubbing his neck soothingly.

"I'm so sorry, dear. I was far too loud. And now look at that, right before you could release. I would say the two of us have been robbed." 

"Don't apologize." 

Crowley remained atop him, still pinning him down. And laughing. If he thought too much in what his father might say or do, he was sure he would combust, but he laughed that off until it was pressed to the back of his mind.

" _ You _ got off. Yes? Or one of us has been stuck by a phantom knife and we're bleeding out." 

Crowley nudged against him, still not pulling out yet, just stuck in the same spot from being mortified. It made Aziraphale giggle a little more, perhaps delirious, and he kept on kissing Crowley's face where he could reach.

"I most certainly ‘got off,’ yes. And it was wonderful and I hope this...mm, mishap is not discouraging too much to try this again another time."

After it was stated, Aziraphale actually feared that Crowley would always connect fucking him with the sudden appearance of his father. And really, that would be a shame.

"I'll just lock the door next time. But I suspect he won't even come to this side of the house on pain of death." 

Crowley's arms were shaking and he had flagged during this mishap. He kissed Aziraphale firmly before he slid out and laid next to him with a little sigh.

"This ever happened to you before? Having a, uh, a guest barge in? Stupid." Crowley nuzzled in against him, all giggly and warm. “I was...so stupid. The door….”

Aziraphale whimpered a little when Crowley pulled out, missing that feeling of being thoroughly filled right away. He once more had the suspicion that someone was testing them. He sighed as well and nuzzled against Crowley's warm chest.

"Tracy walked in on me doing it myself once. It was mortifying, more so since she was giving me tips on how to improve…” He giggled, placing a hand on Crowley’s chest caressing him to ease away his worries. "And back in my military days, Michael almost caught me sucking someone off."

Aziraphale’s hand wandered over the torso, down to the stomach, which was still sullied with Aziraphale’s release. He thought for a moment and started to kiss down, from chest to belly, lapping at the mess he left there.

Crowley's laughter softened as he pet Aziraphale's fluffy hair, looking down at him. 

"I should clean you up," he muttered, the rise and fall of his chest picking up in moments, in the middle of breathing, as Aziraphale licked him. "Messy," he added, a whisper.

If Aziraphale wandered too far from.his stomach, Crowley tugged at his hair to pull him back up, never giving him a chance to entice Crowley for more. He behaved and stayed above the navel, sighing against his stomach.

“Messy indeed. I’m a little vexed that you didn’t get the chance to make it even messier.”

There was no way that there was a chance for the amorous mood to come back and Aziraphale didn’t dare to think about the next morning. He could only hope that Nathaniel would do everything to not face him. He crawled back up and laid down to face Crowley, sighing again.

“If you could bring me a wet cloth, that would be lovely.”

Crowley kissed him and rolled up with that overly-flexible spine of his, padding around for something to clean Aziraphale up. He took a moment to lock the door while he was up and giggled at it, thumping his forehead against the door so gently before he returned and shifted Aziraphale around to clean him up. He did it with slow, easy care and kissed the newly washed portions as he did so, then haphazardly cleaned himself and crawled back in to hold him. 

"I'm glad you're here," Crowley whispered tenderly. "You should never leave."

“The feeling is mutual. Very, very mutual.”

Aziraphale snatched the blanket to cover them up before snuggling in to Crowley’s arms. They still had the night and the next day to be together. And that was everything that mattered. It would give him time for the horses to rest before he stopped at his parent’s estate, delivered hellos, and made the journey back to London.

Aziraphale’s hands didn’t stop wandering over his husband’s sides and back, caressing him softly. He wanted to do this every day, for the rest of his life. There would be a time when he walked up the stairs to his flat above the shop and he would be greeted by Crowley, who was already home and relaxing on their bed. Maybe it would be the other way around. The image was so clear. It had to come someday. Though it did not feel close enough.

Aziraphale could feel his exhaustion taking over and he yawned thoroughly .

“Mhm... I bought some plants. Every time after we see each other, I go and buy one, so you’ll have a small collection when you come home….”

"Oh, Angel," he answered with a reverent catch in his chest. Crowley smiled and planted his lips across his sleepy face, encouraging him to rest. The nap had invigorated him some and he found himself staving off sleep by petting Aziraphale.

Some part of Crowley was still so certain that their delightful future they dreamed about would not come to pass. That it was impossible to get out from under the Starbright's need for a legacy well until after his father’s passing and after that he would be too entrenched in the family business, guilted into some loveless union that would produce them a proper heir and so on and so forth as society dictated these things must go. But he didn't voice those concerns because they hurt his chest too much and he invariably ended up wandering the house in search of comfort to finally rest.

Crowley had comfort. Right now. And he must lap it up to its fullest. 

"Goodnight," Crowley whispered, safe and warm for the evening.

Aziraphale mumbled something and drifted off, feeling warm, safe, and so loved.

It was a peaceful sleep, until the point where the missed dinner slipped into his dreams and he woke up with a grumbling stomach in the dead of night. 

He tried to go back to sleep but his body was so used to it’s daily meals that it was impossible. So he detangled himself slowly from Crowley, who looked absolutely dearly while sleeping in the soft moonlight, and slipped into his clothes. He had visited so often that he found his way easily through the half-dark room, snatching the candle and matches from its usual place and lighting it. It was a bit of a hassle to get the door open without being too loud, but he managed it and slipped out into the silent hallway.

Aziraphale did not know how late, or early, it was but from his own experience, he knew that there was always  _ something _ to find around a big kitchen like this. He found no one down there - who else should wander the house at such an hour, really? - so he rummaged around until he found some bread and sat down. The silence was nice and he took his time to get sated. 

It gave him an opportunity to ponder in the dark, as one does, his thoughts returning to the same simple question. How could they get out of this mess? There had to be some way to get Crowley out of his responsibilities.Truly, he shouldn’t dwell on them. Better to hurry up and get back into their warm shared bed. But it kept haunting him, more and more, and he considered as he nibbled.

**-**

There was a ruckus in the kitchen. While Greta's room was closest, Shadwell had come home not an hour ago and wanted a bite of some of that dry cheese she had stored.

He wandered in without match or candle, considering it to be a quick trip, and stopped when he saw the light. He grabbed something heavy near the entrance, expecting it to be an intruder. He got up close before he recognized Aziraphale in the dim light, his arm raised to strike.

"Mr. Fell?"

Aziraphale turned around to look up at the half lit face of the grumpy old man and made a squeaky sound, soon followed by heavy coughing because he had choked on the bread. It took him some time to get back to a coherent state. Really, the Lord was testing him!

"Mr. Shadwell... Heaven's sake! My heart stopped for a second."

Shadwell came closer to help smack Aziraphale's back so he wouldn't choke to literal death, tossing the heavy candle holder onto the table beside them.

"In more ways than one," Mr. Shadwell answered, slipping in next to him. "It's good to see you again. Just in time to help greet Mr. Mouche and his frightful daughter of his tomorrow." He looked around playfully before he smiled a little at Aziraphale. "Where's your other half then, hmm? Buggered him to a proper night sleep?

Even though he had grown quite close to the people in this estate, Aziraphale was a little peeved about the way Mr. Shadwell addressed their nightly activities. He gave him a side glance and watched the candle intently while speaking.

"He's fast asleep. We skipped dinner and I woke up, feeling peckish." Aziraphale sighed, thinking back to the disastrous moment a few hours ago. He would definitely  _ not _ tell the old chatterbox about it. Instead, he tried to change the topic. "Had a lovely evening with Mrs. Tracy?"

Shadwell took the switch in conversation like duck to water and walked around him to go fetch that cheese that haunted his waking moments. 

"That I did," Mr. Shadwell answered forthright, feeling light in spirit and heavy with need of sleep in his bones. "She's a remarkable woman. Has a, uh, quite the imagination." Shadwell glanced over his shoulder and then back to the cupboard, busying himself. "Never thought of retiring, but she makes a man dream, that's for certain."

"Yes, I can imagine uh... That."

My, but Mr. Shadwell was open to him. Seemed like he didn't have someone to talk about those things too often.

"You're serving this family for such a long time now, I don't think that anyone would resent you if you did."

Aziraphale smiled and got up. If there would be more visitors tomorrow he should get any chance to cuddle Crowley up.

"I think I'll retire to bed again now. Goodnight Mr. Shadwell." 

Aziraphale was halfway out the kitchen when he turned around again, a nervous look on his face.

"Uh.. Since you know everything so well here, how do you think Mr. Starbright would react if he ever found out about…. You know…."

Mr. Shadwell sort've curled up on himself in a miserable little hunch when Aziraphale was readying to leave. He  _ didn't _ have someone to talk to about this. He had the lady of the house, but by her title and definition and general being, he didn't speak of any of these things as lightly as he did with Aziraphale, like a tap had been struck and the faucet turned on full. And then scooped back into place to hold close to his chest. Inappropriate, of course. Mr. Fell was a guest. Should remember.

"Oh. Mr. Stabrbright?" He turned and laughed, looking back at Aziraphale. "Think  _ his _ heart would stop if he caught on."

"Oh. So. He seemed fine when he ran out the door…." Aziraphale mumbled, still standing in the doorway.

"Ran out the door?" Shadwell looked towards where the approximate front door of the house should be located. "Ran out the door for what? Is he alright? I said, Sam, anything happen to the house while I'm gone, I'll tan his hide. Was it a mess?"

Aziraphale turned bright red and looked down at his feet. He shouldn't tell Shadwell but now he had gone and painted a completely wrong picture and he couldn't get poor Sam into trouble.

"Not out of the front door, more out of Crowley’s door. We uhm.. forgot to lock it. Before we…. Terrible habit."

Oh it could have been a wonderful mess.

"Sadly not..." Aziraphale mumbled again, hoping this would be unheard by the valet.

Shadwell mouthed to himself and relaxed, even looking a bit devilish when he smiled.

"Ah...found you canoodling." He nodded at last. And then stilled. And then clapped his own chest as he started to laugh.

"That's...It was terrible!"

Aziraphale tried to sound offended but started laughing as well. It couldn't be made undone now and humor already helped some hours ago.

"Well, now everyone here knows about us. I'm a little anxious to face him tomorrow, if I'm honest. Maybe he'll just ignore me, in the best case."

Aziraphale mused how much worse this could have been if Crowley was the one who was getting properly shagged. Maybe not much, but Nathaniel certainly had a certain view of how his son should behave. Really. He started laughing even more, so much that he had to cover up his mouth.

"Ya keep kissing by barns and on hills and when ya visit he gets all goosey. Course we knew. Well." Shadwell chuckled and wiped his eye. "Thaniel was thick about it, but s'pose you changed his mind."

He got up and patted Aziraphale on the shoulder.

"Yer good for 'im, is what I'm saying. Mr. Crowley. We all know it. So. No complaints from me, laddie. Only complaint you might get is Greta upset you got one of her loaves, but I'll take the blame, since I got the cheese with it."

Finally, Shadwell stepped around him, humming a little tune he picked up from Mrs. Tracy during his visits with her. He needed to get some shut-eye 'fore he was awake too early to get the house in order for the Mouches. And to test Mr. Starbright's mood and warn the boys if they might face any backlash. He might like a good gossip and mine Aziraphale for more tidbits about Mrs. Tracy, but the hour was late and their conversation had died too soon to be of any use anyhow.

Aziraphale wished him a good night again and sneaked back up. Crowley was still fast asleep as it seemed, huddled up in the blankets. Without another body beside him he seemed to be someone to toss around while sleeping. Aziraphale slipped back in, spooning his husband and shut his eyes again. There were only a few hours left to enjoy this closeness.

Even fast asleep, Crowley calmed somehow, like he sensed Aziraphale’s return and smoothed himself back out to hug around Aziraphale, nuzzling against his shoulder for the last hours of their sleep.


	17. Return to the Hill

The sun rose and the Starbrights were eager to receive Mr. Mouche and their niece. 

Lillian had woken early, as she often did when she was in high spirits and good health, taking tender care to draw out only the softest, nicest things from her sleepy and grumpy husband. He was as gentle as a petal with her when they had their quiet moments of peace.

The people in service to the estate were moving about, which was just enough commotion to wake Crowley, who was clinging pathetically to the idea of sleeping in late.

Aziraphale was wrapped around him for a change, with a similar effort of ignoring the outside world. But it sadly didn't help and he knew that the Mouches would arrive soon.

"Mornin' love..." Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley’s hair while Aziraphale tried to wrap the blanket tighter around them.

Crowley chuckled at the slight sleepy gravel stuck in Aziraphale's voice and found his hands to pull them in like a belt. 

"Hmm, morning," Crowley answered in kind, and nuzzled back some. He could get used to waking up wrapped up like this. It eased the aches in his naturally colder limbs. "How badly do we want to remain locked up in here today and can that be feasible?"

“Unfathomably badly and no, I’m afraid it can’t.”

Aziraphale shoved his face more into the hair, taking a deep breath. He needed to savor that smell.

They really had to get up, Aziraphlae knew it, but he still wanted at least five more minutes. He showed this by wrapping a leg around Crowley’s in the same fashion he’d done with his arms.

“Your cousin is about to arrive. Shadwell told me last night. And to be frank, I don’t want to cross paths with your father.”

Crowley carefully turned his head so he didn't bump Aziraphale's nose. 

"I doubt he wants to see us either," Crowley mused.

It took some effort, with tangled limbs, but he turned around completely so they could face each other and so he could get his hands on that soft angelic face for a moment, brushing his thumb tenderly beneath sleepy eyes. 

"Give you half a crown if Bea makes an excuse to go visit your estate before the day is over."

“I hold against it with Gabriel coming over to ‘get me’.”

“Is he?”

“I suspect there will be a missive from the Fells by courier sometime this morning, signed by Gabriels’ hand. Bet me.”

“I just did….”

“And my wager will win.” Aziraphale chuckled and sighed at the touch.

He promised himself that, should they ever make it to London together, there would be a whole day of just staying in bed together. Yes, that was a good plan.

“I promised to help welcome your cousin, you know. Somehow. At least I feel like I should help. I uh, got peckish last night and ventured down to fetch something. Ran into Shadwell who nearly bludgeoned me.”

Aziraphale leaned in to steal the first kiss of the day, not only on his love’s lips but cheeks, nose and eyelids as well. He was almost forgetting all the hustle outside, too caught up in fondling every inch of Crowley he could reach until a very grumpy Shadwell could be heard, scolding some of the staff.

Truly horrible that they had to get up. Aziraphale kissed him one last time, a long and and soft and lingering affair, and started to untangle himself to garner his clothes.

“I guess you slept well. I didn’t wake you up when I left the bed.”

He was handing Crowley his clothes and even started helping him to get in said garments. It was some of their little rituals now, one to steal a few more touches and time before departing.

Crowley, of course, helped with tying Aziraphale's scarf just so, nimble fingers working the fabric the same as they worked his own hair into a tight braid. He even stole a moment to button up Aziraphale's pants and would have done his boots, too, if the other didn't blush so much when he did it and look like he should be immediately undressed and eaten like his morning meal. 

When they were put back together, very simply washed and readied and dressed and loved and loved and loved, Crowley took a steady breath and held his hand. 

"Alright. We can do this." 

Crowley nodded licked his lips before he fetched the key, unlocked the door, and stepped out just as Florence was rushing past to make sure the guest room had the vase of flowers she had promised to add yesterday.

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand tensely, always thinking that they could run into Nathaniel when they rounded a corner. In the end he didn’t he didn’t have to worry too much since Crowley was right. They were soundly avoided.

After a short breakfast, the arrival of the Mouches was imminent and everyone was buzzing around like diligent bees in a hive. It was a sign to rise and get to the gate, welcoming them. 

After the latest incident, Aziraphlae didn’t give a damn anymore about being seen here. He walked there with Crowley’s hand still in his. If they had to sacrifice their precious time together, they could as well do it as a couple.

“Why is she visiting again?” Aziraphale whispered while waiting for the carriage to be seen at the horizon.

"Uncle Jean has it in his head that he needs to be here to help out. Even though it's been  _ months, _ the late bastard," Crowley whispered and giggled slightly. "I still think he's hoping to marry Beatrice off before she's too old for it. I don't know, but I know Mother always gets excited to have them." 

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand and smiled against him, too content in the warmth of their little side conversation to pay any mind until Shadwell stepped past them and cleared his throat, even bopping up a little on his toes as he walked past.

“Well, she’s got a fair chance,” Aziraphale got out before Shadwell reminded them to act their age.

Everyone was out by the door to see them. There was a sense that they needed to show off that the Starbrights were still doing well and that Mr. Mouche, while a decent fellow and brother to Lillian, was not at all to be concerned about their welfare. 

Nathaniel and Lillian had just come out and were smiling as they spotted the closed carriage of Mr. Mouche heading down the long driveway. Lillian smiled and said something sweetly to her husband about the fine weather to have guests, who was about to agree when he casually glanced over and made eye contact with Crowley. Neither of them said anything, but the quick look at their hands and the slight crease in his eyebrows unsettled Crowley and he cleared his throat as well, slightly shifting to hide Aziraphale's hand between them so nobody would see that their fingers were entwined. He stared down the approaching carriage until it was before them, Shadwell going to open the door, and Beatrice climbing out first to greet her aunt and uncle.

Aziraphale noticed the slight change in Crowley’s posture and perked up. Should he let go of his hand to not embarrass him? He loosened his grip on Crowley only slightly but thought better of it and just tightened it again. No. He would not let go, no matter how deadly a stare they would earn for it. He wouldn’t be robbed of this small gesture as well. He stared back at Mr. Starbright, but Nathaniel was occupied with welcoming his niece.

Aziraphale just waited until Beatrice would greet them, welcoming her politely. He was just starting to count the seconds until she would ask something about his brother.

There were twelve of them. Twelve complete seconds to walk from Mr. and Mrs. Starbright and over to Crowley and Aziraphale.

"Crowley, dear cousin," she said and patted his cheek. "I've come to steal more of your wardrobe." Before Crowley could even protest, she turned and said, "And Mr. Fell again, so glad to see you. How  _ is _ your brother?"

Aziraphale barely contained a snort. He got around to a smile and bow, realizing that Beatrice was wearing an actual dress. 

“The last time I checked he was fine. I haven’t been home yet.” He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. “And I guess  _ you _ could answer that better than me. With your letters?”

Aziraphale pulled back with his typical smile for social interactions. Oh this would maybe be a little fun at least.

"Was he walking funny?" Beatrice asked back and giggled before Mr. Mouche and Mr. Starbright both seemed to clear their throats and started to head inside. It was the air of someone saying  _ children _ with an eye roll. 

Lillian smiled at them and waved them over to come inside as well. 

"Are you hungry? Would you like to get settled in your room?" she was asking Beatrice with a hint that she could go change into something more comfortable for her stay now that she was here and used herself and Beatrice as a wall of sorts between her husband and brother as they all headed inside, Crowley and Aziraphale taking up the rear. Aziraphale used their position to face Crowley, frowning with concern when they were soundly alone again.

“You’re alright? I can tell that something was off back there...”

Aziraphale squeezed his hand again to reassure Crowley, and himself, if he were honest. 

Crowley blinked away his thoughts and smiled at Aziraphale, bringing his hands up to kiss over his knuckles. 

"I'm alright. She hasn't asked  _ specifically  _ to join you yet. Do you win the bet?" 

Crowley teased to ease some of the tension out of his shoulders. Nothing was  _ said, _ and there was no scene for them to smooth over. It was just a quick look that made him worried, as fathers and sons sometimes discussed things without actually discussing them and, therefore, could be read completely wrong. He wasn't about to spiral just because his father was waiting for the right moment to denounce them both and force Aziraphale out of the house when they had family visiting and lock the doors and arrange a marriage and oh  _ god. Stop. _

No. He laughed. And he rubbed his finger soothingly over the ring on Aziraphale's hand and decided it was still alright.

Beatrice did take herself up to her room and almost went directly to Crowley's to steal his clothes, but Hastur's room was empty and stale now and she decided to root around a bit to find anything he had left behind. His slacks would be too long, but his waistcoats would still fit and she sighed happily when she returned in a burgundy outfit while Mr. Mouche sat with Mrs. Starbright in the drawing room and discussed delicate family affairs. Mr. Starbright agreed to join them and needed a moment in his study.

It all calmed Aziraphale for now, but there was still some strange tension in the back of his head. Maybe it had been the strain of the last months and the way yesterday had ended, nothing more. He  _ was  _ a little annoyed that Beatrice was snooping around them, the little hope for more privacy gone, but it couldn’t be helped now. At least they didn’t need to behave too much around her.

“So. I hope your journey was not too unpleasant. Before you ask though, I planned to stay here until tomorrow, so if you hoped for a ride you’ll have to wait.” Seeing as they had no note from Gabriel yet, he was sure that was still the truth.

Beatrice opened and then subsequently closed her mouth, looking a bit crestfallen. Then she changed tactics and leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. 

"There's not a guest room set up for you," she said of Aziraphale.

"Oh, everyone knows," Crowley started. "Well.... Some found out.... No, yeah. They all know," he said, before he could think of a proper amendment. 

Bea's eyes widened and she laughed right at them. 

"And you're not cast out immediately?"

"Why would...who's going to cast me out?" Crowley's voice was beginning to rise and the little jokey nature of the two of them was dropping like flies. "Somebody has to be here since Hastur's-"

"Don't remind me," Bea said, rolling her eyes dramatically. Then she looked peeved, matching Crowley's agitated mood. "I don't even know why you stayed, either, honestly. You don't  _ like _ all this. You never cared for it. You're going to run those businesses into the ground."

"Shut up," Crowley snapped.

"Well, you are! What did you even learn when you were away, writing and trimming flowers? Drinking and kissing friends?"

"I swear, Bea-"

"Oh, don't raise your voice," Beatrice said, annoyed, casually thumping the wall with one set of knuckles before she crossed her arms again. "You're just like Uncle Thaniel. Think the louder the man is, the more-"

" _ What _ is going on out here?" Shadwell demanded, seemingly to materialize at the edge of the hallway. "Miss Beatrice, perhaps you'd like somethin' to eat? Temper that mood?"

Beatrice glared at Shadwell and shoved away from the wall, taking a deep, aggravated breath but deciding to uncouple herself from this stupid conversation was a better plan than to continue it fruitlessly. Food might even her mood out as well, since they had likely departed early on Mr. Mouche's insistence.

Shadwell intervened before Aziraphale could say anything. This man was everywhere at once.

He felt guilty for this heated argument even starting, given to his tetchy comment. Aziraphale had let his bad mood get the better of him and now the mood had gone from slightly annoyed to outright sour. All he could do was to squeeze Crowley’s shoulder and then go for the door, closing it behind Beatrice as soon as she stomped out of the room. When he turned around again, he searched Crowley’s face instantly. These comments couldn’t have gone by without hurting him, he was sure. Aziraphale hurried back and took Crowley’s face into his hand.

“You’ve done everything in your power, brave enough to shoulder everything of this alone when your family needed you to. I just upset her because she wants to leave today and I still stand by my plan to head out tomorrow, unless Gabriel changes it for me. I’m so sorry, Crowley.”

Crowley leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. 

To a point, Beatrice was right. Maybe he would ruin the family. Lots of accounts to track and get lost and he had a habit of shoving papers into desk drawers when they overwhelmed him. The top looked clean, but underneath was just chaos. 

He breathed and held Aziraphale's hand against his cheek.

"It's not your fault," Crowley said with a smile. "She's not...a morning person." He kissed Aziraphale's palm and immediately hugged him up, holding him tightly. "I wish I had. I wish I had run away with you."

Aziraphale felt like somebody had stabbed him from behind, with a dagger made of guilt.

Oh God, he wished that he had said yes back then. That first, dreamy instance when Crowley had suggested they simply run away together. So much pain could have been averted if they had just done that. On the other hand, they would have broken Lillian's heart, maybe even more than it had been now. They would have been broke, with no plan where to go and what to do. But at least they would be together, uncompromisingly.

Azirapahle reciprocated the hug, trembling slightly with the angry tears rising to his eyes. Oh no, crying would only make everything worse. But he couldn’t stop. He was so exhausted, only ever able to see the love of his life for two days maximum before parting again and it hurt every time. Only because he couldn’t be brave and reckless in the right moment.

“I’m sorry...so sorry. I should have said yes. I should have known. I should have leapt. I was such a coward and now-”

He broke off, sobbing into Crowley’s shoulder. He was pathetic.

"Angel," Crowley whispered against him, cradling his head, his arm moving around to press him tighter in hopes Aziraphale wouldn't shake apart. "No, love. It's not your fault. You're no coward." He pulled Aziraphale as tightly as he could, a mutual cry building and escaping. "I'm sorry. Forgive my foolish tongue."

Crowley kissed his ear. He made soft, soothing sounds, hiding against that soft blonde hair, pressed up against the door so nobody would intrude and made the world small and personal and theirs, if just a moment.

Aziraphale still clung to him, just letting go of all the tension that had built up over the course of the last months. When the worst was over, he took deep, shaky breaths calming down a little.

“Look at us. How is it that we’re this close to each other either, crying our hearts out or crying out in unadulterated passion?” He chuckled weekly. His grip was loosening but he was still too embarrassed to move his head. “I think I made a mess of your shirt.”

Crowley struggled to look down, sniffling still. He laughed at his shirt, perhaps a little too hard but more from relief, and tilted Aziraphale's face up to kiss his forehead.

"But another reason we were meant to be, I suppose." 

He held Aziraphale's cheeks and lingered a little on doting love to his face. 

"Don't worry about the shirt. Let me get you fixed up, hmm?" He chuckled now and started to adjust Aziraphale's hair a little, to wipe his eyes and then kissed him firmly on the lips in way of devotion and apology.

The kiss helped immensely and he could feel himself calming for good. Leaning against Crowley was grounding and he could feel the love surging between them. 

“I guess you’re right. I love you.” Aziraphale kissed him again, shorter and but not less firmly.

“I love you, Angel.”

Crowley promised Aziraphale that even a few months wouldn’t be the end of the world and discovered he meant it as a promise, more to himself, to find a way to make that life they so dreamed about a reality. He also promised he loved him, even when he was weepy, and that they would have a better time today no matter what happened.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to wipe his thumbs under Crowley’s eyes. Really, both of them were their only respective disasters, not to mention when being together. 

After some more moments of tenderness, it was time to get out there again. Aziraphale just hoped that he didn’t look too cried out. He wanted to apologize to Beatrice and try to enjoy the rest of his time with Crowley.

Nathaniel and Jean had gone off to the gardens for a bit, leaving one sulking Beatrice to sit with her aunt, after she had had a well-meaning but ultimately guilty conversation with Shadwell in the kitchen and handed a plate of sausage and toast and a very strong bitter coffee, nothing like the lighter ones served in the coffeehouses in Bedford that had the little hot chocolates with a small half of a sandwich. 

Lillian was smiling over her book, knowing that her niece was pouting about something but having sense not to press her on it and letting her be herself over on the sofa.

"Have we lost Uncle Jean already?"

"To a debate on proper planting methods, I'm afraid," Lillian answered without looking up but stretched a hand for Crowley to come occupy with his shoulder, which he did and even leaned in to kiss her cheek. 

"Like Jean knows what he's talking about," Crowley mused quietly, glancing at her book without reading anything. 

Beatrice sat up and tugged on her vest, looking both anxious and steady in one complicated mess of a person.

“No, he does,” she said stubbornly.

“ _ You _ don’t even know what I’m talking about,” Crowley teased back until his mother patted him with her book again to behave himself.

Oh Aziraphale loved the way they were talking so freely. He smiled and patted Lillian's shoulder when walking past her, feeling confident enough to do so now, with no Mr. Starbright or Mr. Mouche around. Lillian smiled even as she and Crowley continued their little banter. She looked up and wiped under Crowley's eye, but they made no further comments on appearances. Instead, Aziraphale caught sight of Beatrice, looking like she was struggling with something she was about to spit out. He walked over to her, keeping a respectable distance.

“Feeling better? I know how much one's mood can suffer when you’ve not eaten properly. I....actually want to apologize, if I set you off in any way. I thought I was teasing. Didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

"Er. I." Beatrice huffed, standing up. "I apologize for my comments earlier. They were not...yes. I do feel better. I hope I wasn't too....mm....." 

Apologies did not come so naturally to Beatrice Mouche, but she knew she was wrong. She stepped a little closer to Aziraphale. 

"I'm...sorry. Coming here has always been one of the happier times. I do not...have many acquaintances who will put up with me and I really miss Hastur," she admitted at a whisper. "And I'm furious at what he did, that toad. He wasn’t supposed to just leave. He was supposed to take...I mean….” Beatrice huffed and squared her shoulders again. “And now I only have Crowley and...well, and you and Gabriel and I should not have threatened that friendship as I did." 

Beatrice sneered at herself, crossing her arms and expecting Aziraphale to make fun of her as an excuse to get mad back at him. However, she considered him a friend? That was a surprise. Aziraphale smiled at her, genuine and warm this time.

"We're all worked up one way or the other and yesterday was somehow frustrating. Apology accepted if you're accepting mine." He stretched out his hand as a sign of peace. What good would it do to be on bad terms with your future in law anyhow?

Beatrice's face startled slightly, staring at the hand. Then she tucked one of her own behind her back and shook his with a firm nod and a pressed smile. 

"Accepted," she said at last.

Crowley chuckled at some little joke and avoided being batted in the face by his mother’s book's binding as he stood up to go check on how Aziraphale and Beatrice were fairing. He slid into place beside his husband without actually touching him, and noticed them breaking apart from their handshake.

"Brokering deals, I see."

"Alliances," Beatrice teased, even if she didn't have a very playful look on her face. "It's too nice a day. Can we go wander the grounds as well, or is that reserved to Uncle Thaniel."

"Yeah. Alright." He smiled with a little inquisitive raise of his brow at Aziraphale and mouthed  _ okay by you? _

"A little bit of fresh air should be good for us all right now." he answered with a warm smile. The grounds were vast enough. They slipped out the back and went the way around the barn instead of the favored path that went through some of the cultivated grounds. 

On their way out, something came back to Aziraphale’s mind, something he had pondered on for some time now. He walked a little closer to Crowley, bumping his shoulder now and then and letting his fingers graze his hand. He just couldn't keep his hand off completely.

"You and Gabriel, you already knew each other, didn't you? Looked like you were familiar with each other."

Beatrice breathed deeply, raised their arms, and luxuriated in the sunlight. 

"I know your brother in a sense," she answered, still teasing. "I got to know him quite well, actually, after your little tip to find his room."

"Bea," Crowley groaned, finally taking Aziraphale's hand outright now that they were walking around again. "You're a lady."

"Not a good one," Bea reminded him and laughed, spinning to face them while walking backwards. "And sometimes you make a poor man, dear cousin."

"I have thought about putting on your dresses," he answered back. "I bet I'd look downright beautiful in them."

They laughed together, much easier than before.

"I think that we all can agree, that we're not really good in whatever role we're supposed to be in." Aziraphale added and joined in on the laughter.

But oh, that thing with the dress was an interesting mental image. He leaned in to Crowley, grinning and a little flushed.

"I do agree on that, it would look beautiful on you."

Maybe there would come a time he could see his husband in a dress, just a nice little thought. He pecked him on the cheek and turned to address Beatrice again.

"Truly now, when he heard about your visit some months ago he was very eager to meet you, even though relations between our families were still tense. You did meet before Crowley and I have!"

"Once!" Beatrice blurted out. "I suspected it was him. He never went to the alehouse and I wasn't even sure if he recognized me. I wasn't...wearing such stylish garb," she said pointedly.

"Sweet Lord," Crowley said with a growing smile. "Did you drink him under the table?"

"I  _ tried. _ "

" _ Really _ ?"

Aziraphale was more than surprised. Imagining Gabriel - proper, all business smiles Gabriel - drunk, trying to get the attention of Beatrice Mouche. He could but stare at the young woman like she had sprouted a second head.

"I didn't think that he was able to do anything out of line. Ever. What is it with your family and the influence on a Fell?" He started giggling again. This was so absurd. "You know, he should really consider to marry you then. He certainly did remember you, you know. I’ve never saw him so interested in another person that didn't promise better deals."

"Is he working on setting up supplies for the manufacturers?" Beatrice asked excitedly, ignoring the marriage comment, which excited her in a way she would not explain.

"No. I'm trying to sell that one off completely," Crowley said casually. 

"What? Why?"

"Because of the debt from...I thought I told you this."

"You said you were going to sell off the tea line."

"Oh." Crowley twisted his face. "But Mama–"

" _ Who do you still have debts out to? _ "

It seemed quite natural that they both start shouting whenever actual business started, something they perhaps learned from both their fathers, who learned it from their fathers, and so on and so forth.

"Oh my god, Bea! No! Stop!" Crowley laughed pathetically, raking his nails through his hair. "I don't want to do this. I want to enjoy the sun. Is that impossible?"

Beatrice wilted and looked down. 

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Crowley chuckled and leaned against Aziraphale.

"Apologies twice in one day. One more and we'll kill her."

Aziraphale watched both of them shouting and arguing. It was like a match of sorts, with Crowley plainly with a disadvantage. He could see why Gabriel might like her. She was tough, straight to the point and business-minded.

"You're really on fire for the family financials, aren't you? A shame that you can't be in charge of all this. Sounds like Gabriel when he's talking about improvements to the trade lines and acquisitions of new manufactures."

In a perfect world, Beatrice could just have taken over and they would be able to live their lives in London.

Wait...

No, he couldn't suggest such a thing. Could he?

"...I mean, I will kill you," Beatrice answered, the two of them still carrying on as Aziraphale stared. He had a funny look on his face and Beatrice was not at all sure if she liked it or not. When it became slightly more awkward, the two dropping into amicable silence, Beatrice locked eyes with the book seller and fit her hands into her pockets to hide the obvious tell that she was unsettled or agitated.

"Yes, Mr. Fell?" she asked and stepped forwards, drawing one hand out so she could snap in his face. She smiled, but she would feel better if Aziraphale simply spoke his mind. "Can I help you with something?"

"You alright?" Crowley asked softly, rubbing Aziraphale's arm.

"What? Oh pardon me, I was thinking." He was snapped out of his own head, literally, and flushed a little out of embarrassment. "Yes, yes. Jolly good. My mind was just wandering, it's been a week and all..."

Should he tell Crowley about this sudden idea? Maybe not. It would involve pushing someone in the direction of marriage and he knew first-hand how that felt. They liked each other, Beatrice and Gabriel, but suggesting they marry so Aziraphale and Crowley could be free? That was too selfish. Selfish but...so deliciously tempting. Aziraphale blushed again and was certain Crowley could see his gears turning, right through his head.

In fact, Crowley did see something going on, a scheme or a worry or a wrinkle, and he touched Aziraphale's cheek to steady it before he kissed his temple, not particularly afraid of Beatrice seeing their affectionate nature because, though she was a little short of temper and somewhat crass and definitely as strange as he was, they were friendly and she understood wanting affections from a Fell fellow. 

"Alright," Crowley relented and smiled against him. "It  _ has _ been a week, hasn't it? Come on, we'll go sit and watch the grounds from the hill." 

From  _ their _ hill, but with Beatrice as their guest, there would be much less inappropriate touching, obviously. Hand holding, yes. Comments on the gardens? A must. Continued ribbing and threats to feed Crowley to the goats? Sort've one sided, but absolutely.

It was grounding to be here, even in the company of a third party. They lounged around. Aziraphale used this opportunity to let Crowley sprawl over his lap. He loved it, honestly. It was a simple gesture of love, letting him lay there, and gave him ample opportunity to play with Crowley’s hair a bit. And, in the sun, they were just young people talking about anything and nothing at this moment.

The idea that had manifested in his head earlier was still there, nagging him. Aziraphale needed to find a way to mention it without being too obvious. He was in the middle of braiding small flowers into Crowley's hair - something he'd started to pick up some time ago - when he made an attempt to let this drop as casually as possible.

"Say, Beatrice? In all honesty, if there would be a chance to take over your uncle's business...would you do it?"

"In a heartbeat," she answered, handing over little dandelions she picked on the hill for him to make a neat little crown around Crowley's head. "If anyone would let me."

Crowley's eyes were closed and he had his hands resting on his chest, breathing deeply and smoothly that it could almost be assumed he was sleeping. 

He was not. 

The question made him tense up and he opened his eyes under the cover of his sunglasses to stare up at Aziraphale, curious why he would ask that and curious more why Beatrice would ever want to be saddled with any of those horrible bureaucratic responsibilities. 

"I'd go away and come back ‘Bertram’ if it meant any luck at getting any say in things, but we both know that won't work. And, anyways, while dresses are shite, I do like myself as I am."

Aziraphale made a sound of acknowledgement, continuing the braiding. He felt watched but didn't say anything with his face as neutral as possible.

"It's not fair, really. I read a story once, where a cunning woman was holding the strings of a whole enterprise in her hands, using the men in her life as kind of puppets. There was romance involved in the end but I thought it had been a refreshingly good read. Can't remember the title though... "

Which was a plain lie. If he would ever forget the title of a good book….

Bea cackled, tossing little bits of grass on Crowley's chest and the rest of the flowers in their vicinity.

"I mean, stories are stories and all. Sounds amazing, if I could believe it."

"Can't you?" Crowley asked quietly, still watching Aziraphale's face. Man didn't know the title of a book...oh, Crowley saw right through that. It took reserves of his own self control not to smile up at him, still curious what he was thinking but following the little breadcrumbs. "You think you wouldn't get married and immediately take over the finances and such?"

"Ugh, to who? Anyone back home is just so... _ nice. _ And  _ boring. _ "

A sentiment both the Starbright children and the Mouche shared. Crowley did laugh quietly at that, closing his eyes again and relaxing.

"And why would you ever settle for someone back home when you could snatch up someone a little closer?" Crowley blindly felt along for Aziraphale's hands and found the one he wanted, touching his ring and bringing it to his lips for a moment of praising and attention.

"Only if you want to marry in the first place. I mean, look at us. We both tried to escape it with much effort and fuss."

He smiled down at Crowley, forgetting the world around them for a second, brushing stray hairs off of his forehead. 

"Even though we were not too successful in the end, finding love and all..."

He expected her groaning or to make a sound close to throwing up. They were besotted fools. He couldn't care less.

"If you could find someone who's embracing everything you are, you should seize the opportunity though," Crowley said.

"I would not be entirely opposed to marriage, if they were not entirely opposed to me," Beatirce said, now just very plainly picking at grass shoots in her own lap. She grinned at herself. "It would be nice to raid the closet of someone I like."

"Love, even, if you want," Crowley offered. Oh, but he felt foolish and soft, thanks to Aziraphale, so soothed by his husband’s gentle touch.

"And sometimes, that someone is just hiding in plain sight," Aziraphale whispered. He had to give himself a mental shake to get out of his love-drunkenness. He would only make Beatrice run for her life instead of Gabriel.

Must have been the influence of this place.

He decided on not saying anything more on that matter, letting it sink in. Aziraphale promised to take her with him tomorrow but that today, he would like to stay here. He wasn't ready to part yet again.

Beatrice considered something to herself, over and over, a somewhat delicate little smile that she tried to hide and if someone caught her, she chucked a handful of grass at his face. Namely, Crowley's face, only when he glanced up to ask her a question. 

The rest of their afternoon went back to laughing and enjoying each other. Beatrice asked lots of questions about London, just to exhaust Aziraphale, one might assume, and Crowley eventually sat up to show off the flowers braided into his hair. Many of them actually stuck this time. 

Even so, hunger naturally clawed at them and they had to get up and walk as an odd trio back to the house, Beatrice leading the way with a self-assured, almost arrogant air from her posture, her nose turned up, the way she sort've marched in her borrowed shoes. Grass stuck to her coat, her fingers dirty with soil, and humming thoughtfully to herself like the droning of a hive.

Crowley stayed close to Aziraphale. Just before they got to the barn, he tugged him aside and grinned against his lips. 

"You're trying to play matchmaker with my cousin and your brother, aren't you?" he whispered.

Aziraphale smiled slyly, closing his eyes to take in the short moment together and to hide that glint in them.

"Whatever do you mean?” Crowley gave him a look and Aziraphale stuck with his conviction. “I was just trying to be encouraging."

But even Aziraphale wasn’t such a bastard that he could keep in his own excitement. He chuckled, playing with Crowley's lapels.

"I may have done this with ulterior motives.”

“Is that so, Angel.”

“Yes. Selfish ones.”

“Selfish, right.”

“But if it gets everyone involved happy, then... Well…."

"You would be devious with a righteous cause."

Crowley traced Aziraphale's hands a moment, wondering himself if it could work. After they got over the general shock of uniting the Fells and the Starbrights - in a way...yes, it would be Mouche, and that just might be another hurdle, but....

Crowley blinked out of his thoughts and kissed Aziraphale's knuckles once more before they went to join his cousin near the gravel path to the house. He might not be excited about Aziraphale leaving, but since Beatrice was to go with him, he considered it a stepping stone to success. Hopeful, at least, and that was such a fragile thing to feel that he stumbled slightly into Aziraphale on the uneven path, receiving another jibe from Beatrice before they went inside for lunch.


	18. To Stargaze Might Be Nice

The rest of the day was quite uneventful, though Aziraphale found himself enjoying Beatrice’s company the longer the day became. Since he would go back to Fell manor tomorrow, he tried to get as much out of this day as possible. Not so easy with Crowley being called to work every so often.

But Aziraphale had plans.

Dinner came around and they managed to attend without showing off too much of their affection. Aziraphale was still cautious around the head of the family, more so now that Mr. Mouche was here too and that unfortunate moment with Mr. Starbright….

How in the hell they managed through dinner was a feat only God and Aziraphale could apparently understand. And the idle threat during work that a scene could and would be made if certain conversations crept up in front of visiting family kept Nathaniel’s tongue in check. The only sting really came when Nathaniel threatened Crowley with tossing Aziraphale out if he found out they were sleeping in the same room, but he had Shadwell's insurance that a bed was made and ready and, aside to Crowley, could be tossed again in the morning and to just remember to lock his own door. Bite a pillow, maybe, if they were feeling up to being noisy

They made idle conversation, finding comfort easily in chit chat that delved deeper with Lillian’s help and as soon as everyone was finished, Aziraphale asked to excuse Crowley and himself for the rest of the evening.

When they were out of ears’ reach, Aziraphlae turned around, beaming at his husband and taking his hands in his own.

“I had a wonderful idea while we were up on that hill this morning. The sky is clear and with some more blankets, it should be pleasant enough. What would say if I carry you off to a little bit of stargazing?”

Crowley warmed his hands inside Aziraphale's, leaning in closer.

"Stargazing?" The fount in Crowley’s heart that Aziraphale had just tapped could hardly be contained. He had to catch Aziraphale's head before it thunked the wall from pressing him against it for an earnest kiss. "Yes, yes, please!"

Now that was a reaction he had hoped for. Aziraphale pecked Crowley on the lips and tried to get out of his grip, only halfheartedly escaping away from the wall. He managed to convince Crowley to let go so they could make the most out of this evening. Aziraphlae grabbed some blankets, and an extra coat for Crowley. He also made an excuse to get into his guest room, saying he needed an extra pair of socks. He actually rummaged around in his trunk to fetch something. This would be perfect!

So they ventured out, making their way up in the dusk, the sky a mix of dark blues and velvety purple. Some stars were already out, glimmering faintly, while the moon made its way over the treetops.

Aziraphlae was determined to make this as cozy as possible, with a thicker blanket to sit or even lay on and two extra wool blankets for both of them to wrap themselves up. Of course he insisted that Crowley should wear his extra coat right away; he wouldn’t take chances with his health. 

All settled. Aziraphlae lay down and beckoned Crowley to do the same with his hand.

“So. No one here but us and the vast firmament.”

_ And were all the stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, though this might take me a little time. _

Crowley immediately cuddled up Aziraphale the moment they were in their nest of blanket and extra coat, the sun bleeding across the edges of the already dark trees that surrounded the manor. He abandoned his sunglasses to enjoy the purity of the changing sky and the slow blanket of starlight that crept closer and closer. The very soft and distant ones he could not pick out, but there was so little light from his parents and uncle inside the house that it did not disturb their view.

"Do you know any of them?" Crowley asked softly, his voice a tiny thing, like if he said anything too loud it would crack the heavens. "The stars? The constellations?"

Aziraphale put an arm around Crowley, holding him close. Why didn’t he think of this sooner when it was still pleasantly warm outside? Well, there had been  _ some _ distractions along the way, so he tried not to think about this too much. He wanted to just enjoy this.

“Not really. Things like the great and the small bear but not much more. What about you?”

Crowley chuckled and kissed the side of Aziraphale's head, even if his gaze was still turned up to the stars. 

"Get comfy," he ordered, even if he was in Aziraphale's arms. They relaxed back on the blanket and he started over in a corner, slowly mapping out the constellations he had learned when he was young, some of the slightly mis-remembered stories that went into their creations. It was certain he was rambling, of course, but he found comfort in retelling the tales, the silly astronomy ideas, squinting now and again to see if he could spot perhaps a planet. Venus. Maybe Mars. His hands wandered across Aziraphale as they eventually laid down, splaying flat out before they leapt up to point something out or to tangle with his fingers and play with his ring.

For the first time in months, Aziraphlae could relax wholeheartedly. Crowley’s explanations were full of enthusiasm and it was such a delight to just listen to him rambling on, no matter what he would tell him about now. There were beautiful myths, some of which Aziraphale had read about and he added something here and there, musing about symbolism.

“There’s sadly not such a good view in London and soon it’ll be too cold to go out here. So, I thought...pardon me for a second.”

Aziraphale sat up and fumbled for something behind his back. When his hand came forward again, he was holding a book. It was a little smaller than an atlas, bound in a dark color that couldn’t be made out in the darkness.

“I almost forgot about this. Shame on me. Your mother received her gift already, you know.”

“My mother?” Crowley asked and leaned in closer. “Gift?” 

“Yes. I saw one of these once in your library and thought that it was very fitting. Seems my instincts were right on this one.”

He laid the book down in Crowley’s lap, just remembering that it would be hard to read the title, giving the time of day.

“It’s an astronomical book, full of star maps.”

It was unsure if Crowley would be able to pick his mouth back up again as he carefully took the book, jaw dropping uselessly to his chest. He ran his fingers lightly over the binding and turned it over, hugging it to his chest in a very similar fashion to how Lillian received her book. 

"You got this for me?" he asked and laughed, surprised at the notion. "Wait, but what is the occasion?" He tugged Aziraphale a little closer, chasing up to capture his cheek in a gentle touch. "I cannot believe you...."

“There is no occasion. I saw it, I thought of you and picked it up in hopes you’ll like it.” 

Aziraphale smiled, closing his eyes at the touch. Oh he was so happy that he landed his mark with this one. He would never need a specified occasion to make his husband happy. Ever.

“Maybe, if I’m really settled in with the shop and everything, we could get a little cottage out of the city. As much as I love the hustle and bustle in London, it would be great to know that there’s somewhere to ‘escape’ to, don’t you think?”

He was fantasizing again, about a future that might never happen, not if his feeble plan wouldn’t bear fruits. But now, out here under the sky on  _ their _ hill, it all seemed possible again. 

“If it wouldn’t be so chilly already, I would suggest spending all night out here. Maybe we’ll catch a shooting star, who knows? What would you wish for?”

"You," Crowley answered practically as soon as the words were out of Aziraphale’s mouth, replacing the question with his tongue and gently setting the book aside. 

It could not be helped. They had such few precious moments together yet and the impending sunrise that would take Aziraphale away from him, and the natural comfort that having his husband in his arms drove him to irrational thoughts and needs.

Yes, it was cold. The late sun so gone and whatever warmth it had left in the grass disappearing with it. But skin to skin generally did the trick and though he did not pull on any of Aziraphale's clothes with hopes to get underneath them - those hopes remained firm - he did press against him and down to the blankets beneath them, his own coat fanning out enough to make a little tent over their bodies.

Aziraphale’s hands wandered underneath the coat, searching for more contact and wandering over the length of his back. He had to keep the temperature in mind, really, but this was too sweet of a distraction. 

“So much for stargazing,” Aziraphale whispered against warm lips, grinning. 

The feeling of Crowley’s body against his own was so familiar now, but it still hadn’t lost it’s thrill. Every brush of tongue, fingertips, each whispered word and sound of delight was like a match, lighting the pyre of his love for this incredible human more and more.

He was biting Crowley’s bottom lip softly, nibbling a little.

There was no telling of where this would lead to. Most certainly they would not go further than a good snogging, which would be alright. They finally had a moment for 

They had to find their moments.

And, right now, though the air was brisk, almost threatening to be downright cold, the threat of being caught inside put a drop of lead down Crowley’s throat. He still smiled, arching his hips to meet wherever Aziraphale's hand might wander.

"So much," Crowley agreed and nipped back. "Mm, stargazing. Yes. Not unless you turn around." He nudged Aziraphale again with his hip and started to move them, so that he was no longer left on top of him. "Flip with me."

So he did. It was a position that allowed him to keep Crowley warmer even.

**-**

As soon as he had comfortably straddled his spouse, Aziraphale continued the kissing and grinding of hips. He may not be as bendy as Crowley, but he knew how to use his body the right way. He kissed his way over Crowley's jawline up to his ear, taking the earlobe between his teeth before speaking.

"I can make you see even more stars, if you like."

Wouldn't he not already have this wound up, Aziraphale would have laughed about himself. What a silly way to proposition Crowley.

And what a mouth watering idea, all the same.

Crowley opened his mouth in a soft, wet gasp, tightening his arms around Aziraphale's torso. He had wondered if Aziraphale would lean against him to continue his stargazing, as that had been part of their enjoyment, but when he turned around and simply put himself in Crowley’s lap, previous plans went straight out of mind. 

Crowley’s arms roamed effortlessly down Aziraphale's backside just as he panted a puff of cloudy air up at those stars. He squeezed when he found his rump, filling his hand with him.

Aziraphale moaned in appreciation and pressed into the touch. Oh if it would only be warmer. So much they could do...but Crowley might get sick from cold and that was unacceptable.

While grinding between the hands groping him and Crowley's hips, Aziraphale’s hands flourished with a mind of their own and undid the cravat around Crowley’s neck so he had access to the wonderful neck. He nibbled and bit, renewing marks he knew he once left there. It was like a well known dance now. He knew what particular spot could turn his husband into an incoherent mess in his arms and just how long he could drag things out.

He got down to the clasp of the dark trousers, opening them swiftly as ever. Aziraphale reached in and took Crowley in hand, stroking him softly.

"Maybe now would be a good time to tell you about another fantasy I had while being alone, in London... "

Crowley was already trembling, perhaps half from cold but he told himself it was the anticipation that had ignited him. He squeezed again, panting in the little cocoon of warmth swirling between them.

"I love your fantasies, Angel." He bucked his hips up to help get into Aziraphale's hand. "Tell me."

Before continuing, Aziraphale took Crowley out properly to place open mouthed kisses along the shaft, from base to tip, ending with taking the head of the cock in his mouth only to release it with a wet little pop again.

"I imagined how it would be if you kneeled right in front of me on our bed, pushing that delectable cock of yours into my mouth, using me at your own pace…."

He turned his attention back to the head with kitten licks and sucking at that spot right on the underside of the head.

It would be too uncomfortable out here to try this now, almost certainly, and a headboard for Crowley to hold on to would be better, but just telling him about this now was a nice little addition to what he was doing already.

Crowley meant to make a proper comment, how much he loved Aziraphale sharing with him, these intriguing fantasies he dared to spill out when they had their intimate moments. The words managed to form and crowd together at the back of his throat until it was nothing more than an embarrassing whimper.

" _ Ngk. _ " 

He  _ did _ wish he had a headboard.

After Crowley attempted to swallow his tongue, he laughed into Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"So many fantasies we must play through." If he shifted his legs, his knees...there. He was able to thrust up a bit easier, his back a soft slope as he bent himself to chase after Aziraphale’s warm mouth.

Aziraphale shifted as well, making himself more comfortable so he could take him in for good. He bobbed his head several times before coming back up to the head, his lips still on them and looking up to Crowley through his lashes. 

Truly, Aziraphale didn’t know if this would work out like he’d imagined. Fantasies were one thing and he hadn’t been able to take Crowley as deep as the other, with the threat of gagging at the end. The idea was enticing anyways and so he relaxed, placing his hands on his husband's hips for support, letting Crowley guide their speed.

Crowley breathed out a slow rush of air and smoothed his hands down on Aziraphale's arms and the gentle swell of his shoulder blades.

The thing of it was, he did not want to hurt Aziraphale. At all. And being trusted to go his own pace seemed like an exercise of will between them. Thrusting up would be one thing, as quick as possible to chase some diabolically sweet desire. Or slow and to savor him and....

Crowley did move a little. Tiny little thrusts that he peppered with half-swallowed and even less-formed words, a soup of letters chucked together.

It was actually harder than he thought to not meet those thrusts with his head, staying where he was instead and keeping his jaw as relaxed as possible. Aziraphale could hear just how much this was affecting Crowley, which made this already worth the effort.

To show him that he was completely fine, Aziraphale started to softly draw circles onto the hips under his fingers and made some appreciative noises. Maybe this would encourage his ever-flustered husband to let go a little.

"Ngh, Zir...damn it," Crowley whispered quickly, shivering a bit. His damn sensitive hips would be his undoing, he could tell already. 

That encouragement, even small, was helpful, he had to admit. 

Crowley braced a hand on the blanket behind them and rolled his hips up, closing his eyes tightly so he could but feel himself slide halfway into Aziraphale’s mouth and draw himself back out. The next roll, angled up slightly, was even harder, a twitch that made him gasp. Soon enough, he had himself a proper wave of his hips, slipping in and out, the light pressure on his hips a good barrier to remind him when to stop and pull back. 

He did have a great angle to look up and view the stars, if he weren't so focused on the dichotomy of a perfectly hot wet mouth and the cold cloying to sweat-damp temples and the slip of skin around his shirt.

Aziraphale moaned, enjoying the feeling of being used for Crowley’s pleasure. Even though he didn’t tense his jaw and mouth too much - that was the point here - he could feel the strain from the steady push and pull. It didn't bother him though. It was thrilling, even!

This time, Aziraphale would be damned if this was taken from them again. He was determined to make Crowley come, even if he had to help along with some pointedly placed push of his thumbs.

Aziraphale was absolutely lovely through it, but there was something...if he closed his lips a little more, or maybe...if he sucked a little...that was too much to even think.

Crowley wasn't going to ask, of course. He was barely forming words when this started and the idea of making coherent conversation was simply out of the question. The best he made was a depraved hissing sound and he bucked his hips up a little harder, helping to dig Aziraphale's thumbs right into that tender bundle of nerves. He tugged to indicate he was close and pulled out of his mouth, considering the fact that he himself was not that great at swallowing and didn't want to choke his poor, beautiful, wonderful husband.

It may have been a nice gesture of Crowley to pull out, but that wasn’t the point of what Aziraphale wanted. He made an irritated sound and chased after him with his mouth still open and needy. He had to sacrifice one hand to grab the shaft again and cup the head with his mouth, firmer this time so he wouldn’t slip out that easily. 

Since Crowley was already close, Aziraphale pressed his remaining thumb right into that sweet spot. Oh he was so ready to take it.

Crowley keened, bucking up harder than he anticipated and releasing at last, the press a puncture to his desire and launching him over the edge. He twitched repeatedly, a spasm clenching his legs and buttocks and tightened his fingers into the sleeve of Aziraphale's overcoat. 

In increments, in stalled out little jerks of his hips, he started to sink backwards and was only saved from falling flat on his back by his hand stuck on the blanket behind him.

His breath came out in huge clouds, a bonfire's worth of hot air lost in the night sky.

It was a little messy since he had only held him in with his lips, but that was fine. Aziraphale actually liked it messy. Something to savor and lick and clean.

He had no problem with swallowing and so he did, cleaning Crowley off with more kitten licks while he was feeling out the last waves of Crowley’s orgasm. Now he could go to bed without feeling like they’d missed out on something; the thing with the ruined orgasm the night before had been really bothering him.

Aziraphale sat up a little to look at Crowley. He was beautiful in the moonlight and Aziraphale felt the need to kiss him in an instant. So he sat up and got right beside this panting vision of his husband, caressing his damp cheeks with his knuckles before leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I enjoyed that. I think it wasn’t too bad for you either.”

Crowley laughed, quickly turning his face to steal another kiss, a little more on the mark. 

"Not too bad," Crowley muttered, giddiness quickly seeping away to a contented calm, and he shifted his legs as quickly as he could manage to curl up beside Aziraphale. "Not too...you're a fiend. With this mouth." 

Which he pointedly wiped at with his thumb and kissed Aziraphale again.

Aziraphale managed half a grin while kissing and pulled Crowley closer so they could share the warmth between them.

"You're the one talking. I remember clear as day what that mouth of  _ yours _ is capable of."

He giggled and wiped a little bit of sweat off of a fine auburn brow.

"I'm glad that you could finish this time. And if there should be something you want to try, just tell me. I get the feeling that I'm the one pushing all of this into you..."

"I don't mind you pushing into me now and again," Crowley said, unable to stop himself before he grinned sleepily. "I suppose, time apart, I will attempt...." Crowley blushed suddenly and furiously, struggling to remain comfortably still next to Aziraphale on the blanket. "I will try...erm...to experiment. With myself. And. Think of you. Things...to do. With you, I mean." 

Oh, Crowley wanted to bury his head immediately into the ground and  _ die. _

The first comment made Aziraphale grin like a wolf in sheep's clothing, but the second one and it's direction left him surprised.

Aziraphale thought that Crowley was doing this already to be honest, but all the Starbright business must not leave enough room for something like an exploration in self pleasure. Or he was too caught up in his own thoughts of doing it right. Or maybe he was still much more pure, even after all they already did. Apart from this, the thought alone was affecting Aziraphale in a way that traveled instantly south.

"Now that is a very delicious idea. There's no need to be ashamed, I tell you about this all of the time. Or don't you like that? Reading your letters I thought…."

Crowley flattened his hand over his eyes. "Writing is so much easier than telling you. My fantasies live in the words there, but I've never...really. Beyond a simple wank when I'm too frustrated to keep...nnngh." 

Why was this difficult to say! After all the things he had done and dreamed to do yet with Aziraphale, it still stuck his tongue in place.

In truth, he was just embarrassed and ill-practiced at voicing what he wanted in any sexual capacity. But Aziraphale was so wonderfully good at it when he did speak about it and shared and the way he discussed his fantasies during their heated love making always riled Crowley up, so he only guessed it could do the same to him. He wanted to share! He just wasn't very good at it.

This shouldn't be as endearing as it was. Crowley was visibly struggling but it was just too precious, really. Aziraphale searched for his husband's hands, taking both individually and lifting them up to kiss his knuckles.

"My dear, if you don't want to talk about it this way, it is perfectly fine. I guess I'm just a chatterbox on this part. If you'd like...we could try the things you've written to me. Perhaps that one about the scarves? And you can be sure that I do the things I write and talk about every so often, but it's never as good as when I'm doing  _ anything _ with you. "

He kissed his hands again before letting go. He reached down between them to tug Crowley back in and button him up.

"We should probably go back inside soon. You're a little damp and exhausted. I don't want you to catch something again. "

Aziraphale dreaded this moment. He didn't know if he could sleep in the same bed as Crowley tonight and he didn't want to part already.

"What about you?" Crowley whined, all soft and limp after Aziraphale took care of him. Once he was buttoned up, he cuddled him back. "A demonstration of my wicked tongue, hm?"

He did not want to return either. If his father meant business, it would be Ill advised to sleep together. There was no way in hell he would  _ not _ sleep with Aziraphale, but the dread was still palpable.

"That sounds most tempting but like I said, you're exhausted. You really want to do this? Don't get me wrong, it's hard to be a voice of reason right now when everything I want to do is bury myself in you completely..." Aziraphale stopped for a second and groaned. "I said that last part out loud, didn't I?"

Oh shoot, why was it so hard to keep his hands off of Crowley? Well, he loved him and he was the most attractive creature ever walking this earth for Aziraphale. Maybe that was the reason.

"I'm just concerned about your well being,” Aziraphale said seriously, almost like he was chastising himself. “The only thing sheltered around here would be the barn or…. The gardeners shed!"

Crowley glanced down the hill and laughed. The old gardener's house with the dusty bed and the overabundant plants, now more dormant with the cold weather. He grinned and rolled himself up to be standing, wriggling his fingers. 

"I mean, it's no stargazing, but it's somewhere away from the wind. Get the blankets?"

Aziraphale was already up, gathering the blankets with a wide smile. He took Crowley's hand and off they went down to their little sanctuary.

It  _ was  _ dusty, but the prospect of falling asleep together was canceling this issue out. The only thing that was a little inconvenient was the darkness, for there was not too much moonlight that could light their way. With some stumbling and bumping into things, they eventually found the bed. Aziraphale sat down and pulled Crowley into his lap, his smile so big and bright, it may have glowed in the darkness.

"Isn't this like coming home? The hill, this house…. We keep coming back to this, together."

"Just ours," Crowley agreed, holding Aziraphale’s face while he sat comfortably in his lap. "Even a dingy little shack full of garbage. Feels like home with you."

Crowley immediately kissed him, pawing at his shirt with intent to strip him. The house was better than the open air, but no fireplace going and no lanterns and they would need to be moving a lot more to get that old little building to warm up to something comfortable for them to be completely naked. 

He was determined to get started, at least. And they did bring plenty of warm blankets with them…. 

Aziraphale obeyed right away, stretching his arms up so Crowley could get that shirt out of the way. Being so eagerly undressed by Crowley was one of the best parts, really.

Their options of coupling were limited - no one thought to bring that oil, dammit - but that was only incidental. Being able to fall asleep together, to just feel the other in whichever way was the real goal here.

And maybe a relief for Aziraphale, when they were ar it.

For now, Aziraphale didn't want to undress his almost cold-blooded husband too much. Not before they raised the temperature a little. He let his hands wander under Crowley’s shirt though, raking his nails over his chest and abdomen.

Crowley chuckled, slightly tickled, slightly from nerves, and also because if he didn't do something, he'd betray the cold shiver that was causing goosebumps across his body. 

"Harder," Crowley breathed before he pulled back and shed Aziraphale of pants, taking care to remove his own coats and shoes and down to a half-unbuttoned pair of slacks and the shirt Aziraphale was playing under. 

When his husband was naked, resting in the blankets, Crowley kneeled between his legs and immediately began to pepper his body with dry, wandering kisses, trapping Aziraphale’s abdomen between his hands and petting firmly downwards to his thighs, which he would very shortly have above his shoulders, he was certain of that.

Propped up on his elbows, Aziraphale watched his husband work his way over his body so reverently. He sighed when Crowley's fingers reached his thighs, spreading his legs a little farther apart for easier access.

And even with Crowley’s distraction, Azirpahale did not forget his concerns.

"If you're too cold, you will tell me, don't you? No pleasure is worth enough to get you sick while doing it, love."

"Mm, might be," Crowley teased back and kissed down further until he was at the crease of Aziraphale's legs. The warm, savory musk was enough to make Crowley moan into Aziraphale's skin and he licked a spot that very quickly became a nibble, then a bruise as he sucked and worried the skin with his teeth. 

He must match the other side so that whenever Aziraphale was alone and looked between his legs, he would see those two marks on his inner thighs for as long as they would keep.

A surprised and rather loud moan escaped Aziraphale and his arms gave in a little. Now this was a nice spot and he may understand why Crowley was reacting so beautifully whenever Aziraphale pressed into his hips. It may not be as intense as Crowley's, but it was far more sensitive than his neck or other parts that were occasionally bitten.

Aziraphale even forgot to reprimand him for dismissing his concerns when he turned to the other side and repeated his marking. Really, Crowley was a natural with his mouth, there was no need to be so self conscious about this.

"Please, some more. That's a lovely spot you got there."

Crowley glanced up with love-drunk wonderment, kissing idly at the flesh that was near his lips. 

"Another?" 

And another and another, if he could help it.

Crowley shifted Aziraphale's legs, slowly spreading him out and wandering across him to plant a proverbial garden across his skin. Even while Crowley was working on one, he began to toy and tease, to grip Aziraphale and squeeze him from base to the tip in a casual pattern that did not at all match what he was doing with his mouth. He'd only pause one activity to do something more extraordinary, like to begin lapping and sucking somewhere or to use his thumb across the slit, smearing what was already beginning to dribble.

Alright, they had found Aziraphale’s weak spot now. Which happened to be the whole inside of his thighs.

Aziraphale withered a little under Crowley’s love bites, panting and mewling. He didn’t feel cold at all. Truly, the cold air was a nice sting on his hot skin and heightened his senses slightly. 

If they would have enough time on their hands, he would like to test if he could come from just this.

“Mhhhhnn...please make me come undone. Please, Crowley,” Aziraphale pleaded, pushing his hips up so the thumb pressed more into the slit, resulting in another spurt of precum.

How was one to ignore such a request?

Crowley slithered his way back up from Aziraphale's thighs, spreading himself out against him. He hooked one of his legs around Aziraphale's to help keep it pinned down, stroking him faster, with more purpose. The idea of coming untouched was barely a thought for now, but the seed had also been planted and he'd cultivate that into a proper desire some day.

Instead, for now, he doted on Aziraphale's face, rocking slightly with him as he felt that build up and chased after it with him.

"You can," Crowley whispered close to Aziraphale’s ear. "You can, right now. For me, can't you?"

The permission - or was it a command? A request? - striked Aziraphale like lightning, going right through his head, down to his toes. The latter curled and he arched his back while bucking into Crowley’s hand, stroking him so perfectly. He grabbed Crowley’s shoulder and tried to kiss him, but he only managed one sloppy brush of lips before he moaned into his mouth, feeling his release paint him hot and sticky over his belly and a little bit of chest. Aziraphale panted and rolled his hips lazily to ride out his orgasm.

“Oh  _ God _ ...when you talk to me like that...”

Aziraphale finally managed to kiss him properly and didn’t bother with finishing that sentence. His whole body was still tingly.

Crowley grinned into the kiss, pleased that he could have such an effect on his husband. He was surprised to say it got him a tad heated as well, a little twitch that made him moan before he giggled against him. 

"And look at you," Crowley teased, moving to sit up enough that he could frame Aziraphale's face, brushing it with his nose and lips. "Did so good too. Oh, you're warm."

He pressed their foreheads together and he closed his eyes to feel the tremors through Aziraphale's body, which subsided slowly, allowing him time eventually to get his breathing under control. Aziraphale smiled as well and enjoyed the closeness.

“I feel like a hearth. Maybe we should sacrifice one of the blankets so you could warm yourself up a little. But before that….”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand that had been stroking him and brought it up to lap at the fingers and cleaned it off. Once or twice he took a digit in his mouth to get everything.

“There. Now you can use it again”

"Wicked," Crowley whispered, only to pull one of the blankets in question out from under them and wrap himself up.

It seemed a reminder to his condition at last that when they settled, he was a twitching, shivering mess. With Aziraphale was so warm, it served no right that Crowley should even remember being cold, but it took a moment for Crowley to settle, possibly just nerves burning themselves out, the excitement of closeness, the desire for this life of theirs to begin and settle and be as it should be.

"Thank you," Crowley whispered after they were both finally comfortably entangled and relaxed on the old dusty bed. He nuzzled in, the exhaustion of today clawing up to consume him until he was struggling after every breath to keep his eyes open and linger in the moment.

“I thank you. Sleep well, love. I’ll keep you warm, promise.”

Aziraphale settled in himself, pulling Crowley close so he could fulfill his promise. Even though he was exhausted and well spent as well, Aziraphale was not finding sleep too soon. 

The little plan he had set in motion could be their last straw for a life together without the shackles of their respective families' burdens. He hadn’t seen any shooting stars, he was too caught up in the way Crowley had explained all the constellations, but when his eyes finally fell shut, he hoped for any falling star to grant him the wish that his scheme would work. For all of them.

**-**

They were cuddly, but Azirpahale found that they could yet entangle even more when the temperatures dropped enough. Upon waking up, they were just a knot of limbs with Crowley’s head tucked neatly under Aziraphale’s chin and his nose buried into his soft chest under the blanket.

Aziraphale’s nose was cold like an icicle. And it itched. Probably from the dust in the gardener’s house. He suppressed a sneeze and blinked, seeing that there was barely sunlight out. He groaned and tried to find some comfort again, but it didn’t really work. Instead, he tried to burrow his nose and cheek into Crowley’s hair for some more warmth. He noticed that his husband was encompassed in a cocoon of blankets that only just covered Aziraphale.

“C-Crowley...darling, w-wake up. It’s... _ freezing _ in here. Are you alright?”

Crowley nudged his nose against Aziraphale's throat. Sleeping so tightly wound had left them with stiff muscles and dry throats. He might have said something, but his voice cracked the same as the first bit of frost was cracking and crinkling, crawling over the countryside. He didn't want to move, but he could tell Aziraphale was cold, which seemed impossible considering what a wonderful source of heat he had been during most of the evening. Crowley pawed at his chest and rolled off him, feeling tranquilized with sleep. 

That second blanket needed to be unwound from their feet to properly cover them.

It was a little concerning that Crowley didn’t answer at all, but at least he was moving. Aziraphale sat up and kissed his husband's forehead, as that was the only thing visible.

“You can’t go into hibernation now, we need to get back into the house. Hell, it’s freezing!”

He grabbed his clothes and started dressing. A sharp intake of breath could be heard when he put his feet on the ground without any stockings. When he was somehow dressed, he leaned over the cocoon of blankets and tried to open it.

“Crowley! I will throw you over my shoulder as you are if you’re not moving.”

Crowley just groaned, pulling on Aziraphale to come closer and get back into bed already. Sun wasn't even out! But if he opened his arms to really pull him in, then the heat would get out and that wasn't allowed. 

Except Aziraphale was getting dressed. Shoes. Shoes were somewhere. Crowley blinked and rubbed his eyes, his hair a right mess, and put his foot down as well to steady himself to look around better.

"Bloody hell!" Crowley yanked his foot back up and curled into the blanket further. "'S cold, Angel," he whined.

“Oh  _ really _ ? It’s too cold and you shouldn’t be...”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks to take in the adorable display. His features softened and he sat down again to give Crowley a proper good morning kiss. He was cute, outrageously so.

“Look at you, you adorable creature. Stick out your feet, I’ll help you dress.”

Aziraphale kissed him again and kneeled down to help this shivering mess of a husband into his shoes. He didn’t miss to give the same reverence to this as Crowley normally did, with kisses to the knee. He would have gone higher, just to tease, but there was too much blanket.

The next items were the vest and coat, so Aziraphale started to peel Crowley out of his blankets like some would peel an orange. Through no less than five encouraging kisses and one curse for all of mother nature at the end, they were finally dressed together. 

Crowley hugged his arms tightly to his chest and leaned against Aziraphale, more awake but no less excited to be as such.

"You're coming to my room, Angel," he said seriously. "Don't care what anyone says."

And they crept all huddled together across the lawn, back towards the house and the entrance near the kitchen with a surprised looking Greta there starting up a few loaves of bread to bake.

Aziraphale smiled at her with his index finger pressed to his lips. He was cold, stiff and still tired and didn’t fear the rage of Nathaniel Starbright the slightest right now. He would leave the house in some hours anyways and if he wasn’t allowed to come back again, well, there was always his family’s house or an inn in town.

Since Aziraphale knew his way around so well, it was no hassle to sneak through the servant corridors and up to Crowley’s room. A blessed soul - most likely Shadwell - had lit the fireplace and it was comfortably warm. Before giving in to slump down on the bed, Aziraphale turned around and locked the door.

Crowley smiled at his back and immediately tugged on him, drawing him back to bed. The heat of the room ached in his lungs and his limbs, all of him thawing.

He needed Aziraphale. Back in bed. Back in a _good_ bed with sheets and washed comforter and the fire close by. He stayed to his back like they were stitched together and when they laid back down, he hummed and kissed the back of his neck. Aziraphale hummed right back at him and bared his neck a little more for better access while entwining their hands. 

“My, your fingers are freezing. Sometimes one could think that you’re a snake, with that bendy spine and cold skin. I know that I might regret this in a second, but let me warm them up...”

Aziraphale let go with one hand and rucked up his shirt, so he could stick their hands under it and press Crowley’s cold ones right against the warm flesh of his belly. He shivered at the contact first but the heat seeped in quite easily.

"Oh, perfection." Crowley squeezed Aziraphale around the middle, smoothing his hands out and wandering to get every warm inch until they cupped Aziraphale’s chest and squeezed again. "Perfect, perfect."

Crowley managed to get one of his legs worked up between Aziraphale's, threading it around so they were back to being twisted together, an odd braid of limbs. 

"Just what I needed," Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Right, this was what they  _ both  _ needed. Aziraphale’s fingers were caressing Crowley’s cold digits on his chest and he could feel how Crowley’s breathing got deeper with every minute. 

“There will be a time where we won’t sneak around and sleep in cold and dusty houses to have this. And if I have to wait years and sell every first edition in my personal collection, we’ll have that eventually. And you’ll regret ever having bewitched me with your kind heart and amber eyes. God, even your way of treating plants is endearing. You’ll regret it because I’ll never let you go again,” Aziraphale whispered into the room, just to let the words float there instead of being locked up inside of him. He had to tell himself that it would get better. He had to tell Crowley so parting would not hurt as much. 

Crowley's answer came in a small, whistling snore. But he did smile and his hand tightened on Aziraphale's grip before he was gone to sweet, peaceful slumber.

**-**

They did have the smell of baked bread and no hurried servants at least to wake them when the sun did decide to show its face not a few scant hours later.

Aziraphale had managed to sneak back into his guest room and change without being seen, as far as he knew. It had been hard to let go of Crowley, knowing that he would be gone after breakfast, but he already planned to bring Beatrice back himself after he was done visiting his own family at the Fell manor, so he might steal some more time in the end. He changed and met Crowley out in the hallway, looking bedraggled but determined to join him for breakfast.

Sitting down for breakfast was uncomfortable. The cold had been sunk deep into his bones, regardless of the few hours in Crowley’s room, and he could feel his nose go a little runny. Maybe he should take a bath back home but it wasn’t as pleasant a thought without his husband joining him in it. 

That’s something they haven’t done before….

He had half a thought to whisper the idea to the sleepy Crowley beside him, but Beatrice was coming in and Aziraphale figured that she would like to go off as soon as possible. Beatrice looked bright and bushy-eyed at the breakfast table, sitting across from them and happily taking a serving for breakfast, which looked to be porridge this morning, cut with nuts and salted fruits.

"Brisk out there," she said, adjusting her sleeves.

"Mnh," Crowley answered, holding Aziraphale's hand by their sides, which he insisted leaning upon. 

"We'll have to ride fast, then, hmm? Stay out of the cold. May I borrow one of your heavy coats, Crowley?"

"If y'must."

“Cold out there!” Shadwell said happily, too loud, and noticed Mr. Crowley and Mr. Aziraphale slumped together in a wrinkled mess. Seemed Aziraphale kept sniffling and Shadwell offered him a nip of brandy with his breakfast. The brandy made Aziraphale scrunch his face, but he appreciated the gesture anyways. Both of them were very vocal this morning, it seemed, while his sleepy husband soldiered on best he could. Aziraphale made an effort for conversation as well to spare Crowley further comments.

“I send a letter with instructions before I got here. There should be a carriage picking us up in about...an hour. I still have to get my trunk back home, but there should be enough space for us both.”

"Yes, right, yes. I don't suspect I'll take much room, of course," Beatrice said a little seriously. "Should I leave the coat?"

"Take the damn coat," Crowley grumbled. 

"You're in a mood," Beatrice accused and Crowley made a face over his porridge, finding a bite or two before he put the spoon down and forgot about it. 

He  _ was  _ in a mood. Yes, alright, cold evening, cold morning, and his wrists ached in a way that was becoming quite annoying as the day wore on. But the real rub was that Aziraphale was leaving and he hated it. He truly did want to sew their pockets together and live out the rest of their days as such, but that was impossible and impractical and it wasn't exactly the end of the world or anything. Just felt like it.

Since no one was standing behind them right now - Aziraphale checked - he laid his hand on Crowley’s knee under the table and squeezed once. One hour was nothing and he already could feel his heart sinking. Aziraphale managed a smile for his husband anyways, rubbing his thumb over the woolen fabric.

“I think I should pack up. Excuse me, Beatrice, I’ll see you in jiffy.”

Aziraphale nodded to her and got up. Hopefully Crowley would get the hint and wouldn’t be offended or something. The moments shortly before he had to leave were the worst. They still could see each other but the impending departure was dampening the mood every time. 

Aziraphale waited outside in the corridor, listening if he could hear Crowley’s footsteps following.

"Where are you going?" 

"To help him pack."

"He doesn't need - hey! 'Nother one for you two."

Crowley walked backwards to continue giving Beatrice a crude gesture until he almost bumped into Aziraphale. 

"Oh!" Crowley turned and gripped him. "Sorry. Thought you'd already be at the stairs." He chuckled but it quickly wilted and he found Aziraphale's hands, pulling them quickly to his chest.

“I fear I’m even more impatient than the last time,” Aziraphale answered. “Let’s ‘pack.’”

Aziraphale had to pull himself together until they entered the guest room. It was the same procedure as every dreadful time they had to do this. They fell into each other’s arms, kissing, caressing, promising each other that it wouldn’t be too long until they could have this again. There was not much packing. Aziraphale always made sure that this was a moment to say their personal goodbyes. 

Right now, he was holding Crowley’s face in both his hands, his thumbs grazing those high and sharp cheekbones.

“I hate this so much. Let’s pray that the visit of your cousin will be a success.”

"Even if it isn't," Crowley answered, his eyes shut to keep them from leaking, as they surely would. He took Aziraphale's hand and kissed his thumb and fingers, lingering longer and longer with each one. "I've written a letter to my mother, telling her...listen," Crowley said softly, and pulled Aziraphale back in before he could protest and held him close by the back of his neck for a change. "Telling her our plans and that I mean to leave with you the next time you come here. I can't. I can't. Aziraphale, I can't live like this anymore. It may break her heart but I cannot continue breaking yours either."

“Crowley! You...that’s not...oh dear.”

Aziraphale couldn’t find words. He wanted to say that this was absolutely out of question. Crowley loved his mother and it would break his heart as well to leave her like this. He should be the voice of reason again but he couldn’t. All he wanted was them to be finally united. He could feel a stray tear running down his cheek and he wanted to damn himself. Why was he making this so difficult for both of them.

“I love you….” It seemed the only coherent thing Aziraphale could say. “I love you and I’m sure everything will turn out fine...I’m sorry. I really should be used to this by now. Crowley.” He buried his face in Crowley’s shoulder, taking a deep breath to take in his scent. Ah, there had been something about that… “A shirt. I wanted to leave you a shirt of mine. So you won’t have to fall asleep with the letters anymore.”

"A shirt?" 

Crowley looked down at his own shirt as Aziraphale pulled back. He was still determined to go along with his plan, but let it drop as Aziraphale went to fetch something out of his case. 

“A shirt!” Aziraphale repeated, quickly wiping his eyes dry as he rummaged.

Crowley shrugged off his undone vest and slipped his shirt off over his head, the slow churn of his thoughts catching up to what Aziraphale intended, even if that left him half-undressed in the room.

"You told me that you liked how they smell but that it fades and I... Why have you undressed yourself?" Aziraphale finally looked up and blinked several times and chuckled, coming closer again and laying a hand on Crowley's stomach. "You want to wear it right away?"

"Yes," Crowley answered and stepped forward into the touch, holding his hand firmly against his skin. "And you take mine. And."

Crowley brushed Aziraphale's hand lower, still holding him by the wrist as he got close enough to wrap his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and steal a desperate kiss.

What a lovely gesture. Aziraphale was sure that he would fall asleep with that token every night.

The kiss was returned in a similar desperation. The hand on Crowley's lower stomach wandered over his hips down to his thigh while the other arm came around to pull him in by the small of his back. He didn't want to ever let go. He wanted to stay here or take Crowley with him. Anything, just being together. Closer. So close they would almost be one. 

That thought only added to the desperation and Aziraphale’s hands came around to grab both of Crowley’s buttocks and lifting him up, so he could wrap his long legs around his soft middle. Crowley did so naturally, like he was made for it. 

Crowley clamped his legs around Aziraphale and whimpered against his mouth. He never suspected being man-handled as easily as this could be such a turn on. One to taunt Aziraphale and himself with much later in letters. 

_ Ah, don't think about the blasted letters! _

Instead, Crowley occupied himself with bites and tongue and fingers digging into the coarse fabric of Aziraphale’s coat, swept up in the simple fervent euphoria of him that would ache too sharply when he left.

This hadn't been planned but damn that, damn the impending departure and the chance to get caught in the act again.

It was like he was a string drenched in turpentine and Crowley was a burning match. Aziraphale pressed the small hips hard against his body while carrying him over to the bed. He didn't know how he managed it, but he got his husband down on the mattress without losing too much contact, climbing over him. As soon as they were laying there, Aziraphale started to rock his hips, pressing their groin together.

Oh how he longed for the heat of that body around his, buried deep and connected. This was not possible though, and so he kept on dry humping instead while kissing every inch of skin fervently, peppered with declarations of love.

Crowley hugged him while licking his mouth, tasting of tea and porridge. With each roll, Crowley's hips came up to meet him. 

Even with the morning disappearing like sand through an hourglass, and his poor husband sniffling and tired, that they should indulge in their passions seemed prudent. And, quite subsequently, Crowley was reduced to an aching line of desire, a whimpering mess that had clamped his limbs around Aziraphale best he could manage.

Soon, the friction of fabric was not enough. Aziraphale made short work of their trousers, pushing them down to the thighs so they wouldn’t be in the way. Between sloppy kisses and panting, he reached for one of Crowley’s hands around his shoulders to guide it down.

Like they had done before, with too much wine in their system on Aziraphale’s bed, he used both their hands to grab both their hard cocks, so they could bring themselves over the edge together.

Crowley gasped against him, but they somehow managed to grip each other, fingers entwined in a messy web as they rutted against each other.

Turned out to be a bit of a blessing that Crowley took off his shirt then. In their frenzied excitement, he'd have to sheepishly cross back down the hall to his room to get a replacement, or let Aziraphale steal his shirt with their spend staining it. 

The thought alone tipped Crowley over and he arched hard, splashing across his stomach, twitching spasms between their hands.

Aziraphale followed shortly after, adding to the mess on Crowley’s stomach and their joined hands. He needed a moment of recovery, bumping their foreheads gently together with his eyes still shut. He started to kiss his face while loosely riding out the last waves of their orgasms. He started to chuckle, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder now.

“We’ve made a mess. Again. Oh I love to make a mess with you. But I guess I should clean that up...”

Instead of standing up and searching for something to swipe that away, he scooted down and simply licked their mixed ejaculate off Crowley’s chest.

Crowley's breathing had just evened out, but he could not stop himself from giggling a little when Aziraphale cleaned him and offered his hand as well for Aziraphale to clean off before he pulled Aziraphale up and took a sample of them from his lips.

"I need these lips on lock and key," Crowley muttered directly against Aziraphale's mouth, then shifted to his neck. "I need them to cleanse after every meal, tea, and afternoon nibble. Sweet sin, I should say love, has yet bewitched me eternal yet." And then softer, into the beating vein of Aziraphale’s neck. "Don't go. Please."

“Oh Crowley...”

He would swoon if he wouldn’t already be lying on top of Crowley. He’d just gone lax instead, focusing on the brush of lips on his neck. He wanted to stay. Forever. But he had plans and Beatrice was waiting and the carriage was already on its way. He tried to get a hold of himself and the swirling storm of emotions that was threatening to break loose.

“We both know I want that and we both know I can’t....” Aziraphale whispered back, tears threatening to spill. “Just one more time. One more visit. Something will change, I’m sure of it. Only this once and then we’ll be together, I promise.” Aziraphale pulled back, looking into those gold and amber eyes. He smiled even, trying to convince himself of what he’d just said. “I  _ promise _ , dearest.”

It was no use to beg. Their lives going on their paths as deemed by destiny or as such. Maybe it would be different. They hoped. Together. If Aziraphale did it more vocally, Crowley should try the same.

"Once more," Crowley agreed. 

He brushed Aziraphale's cheek, swallowing his dastardly emotions for some sense. He smiled too, both of them faking it. It was a much gentler goodbye that way. He even kissed him again, nice and chaste.

"Shirt? Please?" Crowley asked when he broke away and laughed, even if it felt like he'd swallowed barbed thistles.

“Ah, right.”

Aziraphale sat up and shed his coat, vest and last but not least his shirt. He laid it down into Crowley’s lap, smiling before he got up and searched for the replacement he had just pulled out in his trunk. The rest of their limited time was full of little kisses, fingers brushing skin and soft attempts to dress each other again. 

Eventually, Aziraphale was called from downstairs. Sam and Shadwell got his trunk and Aziraphale was saying his goodbyes to Lillian. He only smiled, a little watery at his husband. They had said their goodbye for an hour before. And it could never be enough.


	19. At Last We Say At Last

When the carriage was finally leaving the Starbright grounds, it did so bittersweet into the cold morning, the late autumn digging in its talons. On one hand, Aziraphale knew that he would see his beloved Crowley soon. On the other, his departure back to London could be alone, and he was unsure if his heart could take it. Crowley’s threat of a letter to be given to his mother spoke the same and he worried what irrational thing his husband might do in his absence.

However, Aziraphale was not alone to ponder his thoughts in silence. He had a guest in the carriage and he tried to be a little more social.

“How long will you be staying in town?” Aziraphale asked politely.

Beatrice was wrapped in Crowley's coat, looking excitedly out the window.

"My father is a tad worried for Aunt Lillian with winter soon creeping upon us like so," she answered, casually returning her gaze to Aziraphale across the seat from her. "So I suppose this will be an extended stay." 

She could not keep the smile off her face, though. Aziraphale may be departing from his heart's dearest, but she was on her way with intent of finding out if his brother might hold affections for her enough that they could move forward with a life together, seed firmly planted in her mind to try and grab it.

“An extended stay? Well...Gabriel will be delighted.”

Aziraphale managed to warm up a little and even make some little jokes on behalf of Beatrice, but the journey wasn’t too long anyways. In about half an hour they were coming to a halt in front of the place he’d known all his life. Before he opened the door for them, Aziraphale turned around.

“Does he know that you’re here, or am I bringing him an early Christmas gift?”

"I." Beatrice paused, her hand hovering on the seat and she cast her eyes down. "I neglected to mention it in our correspondence. Would it be ill advised if it were a surprise? Truthfully...." She leaned closer. "I wanted to see how he would react."

_ Correspondence _ ? He really shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. And it showed.

“I think he’ll be head over heels! Well, in the way he can be, but I think you know quite more about him now than I do.”

He grinned and stepped out, offering his hand for purchase.

They were not greeted outside, but as soon as they stepped through the door, Constanze, Michael and Gabriel were already waiting. Aziraphale greeted them and stepped aside to make room for the surprise guest, his eyes lingering on his brother back from the army again. He was not...entirely pleased...to see him, but did his best to be cordial nonetheless.

“Hello, dear family. Good to see your faces again. I was so bold as to invite a guest actually...”

He got up to his mother, kissed her cheek, nodded to his brothers and waited for the reaction to his announcement. Constanze was delighted, getting right up to Beatrice to greet her. Michael frowned as he always did but with the approval of his mother, he couldn’t say a word. And well, there was Gabriel who struggled to get his mouth shut. It was a sight, really.

“Beatrice...I thought your next visit would be around next spring!”

He sounded surprised and a hint of happiness crept in as sneaky as a fly. Aziraphale could tell that he was pulling himself together, his hands twitching behind his back. Now, that was not a very passionate reaction, but they held themselves completely different from each other and maybe this was all he could manage.

"Spring is all well and good, but do not be so upset I am arrived early." She grinned at him and went to take his arm.

“A little,” Gabriel said and looked down at their limbs entwined.

“So?” Michael asked again. “Where have you been?”

Aziraphale pointedly avoided Michael’s question and excused himself with getting his things in order. Gabriel offered to bring Beatrice along to the study.

"Indeed, it was such a long trip, all the way up to the Starbrights and such luck that Aziraphale would let me join him. Tell me what I've missed in my absence," Beatrice said and let Gabriel think he might be guiding them away and enjoying his excuse to be close and to be alone.Indeed, whatever the rest of them did, they would be alone and Aziraphale found himself alone, too, nearly for the rest of the day. And he even forced himself to pretend that he _liked_ being alone, until he was in his room, lying on his bed, and staring at the ceiling. 

Before knowing Crowley, Aziraphale would have never thought about the possibility of yearning so much for somebody, that it ached physically in his chest and stomach. He felt sore in ways that seemed unimaginable and missed long limbs wrapping around him, slightly cold fingers running over his belly and all the chuckling, laughing and talking together. Truly, the pain was so unbearable that Aziraphale considered saddling Lazarus no less than three times before dismissing it as a stupid idea. Nathaniel Starbright would shoot him right on the spot.

Crowley was awake as well, he was certain. Maybe wrapped up in the shirt he left him, taking in the scent and hoping for a better future. An immediate one. The thought of Crowley so close but also so far was not helping at all to settle himself, to brush away the pain in his soul, and sleep came slowly far too slowly that night. He even skipped dinner. Worse than that, he skipped a late night meal, feeling too morose to go and snack in the middle of the night.

When Aziraphale woke the next morning, he was wrapped up in his sheets like a very artistic interpretation of a present with twine and bow. Or perhaps a very persistent serpent coiling about him through the night. It was a trial to get out of it. And he was nearly late for his usual breakfast before the rest of the family, an excuse to dine without being prodded with needling questions by his parents or his brothers. An hour more and they would join him and see him looking like he hadn’t slept for three days.

Beatrice had found her way down to breakfast early, like some sleepless cat, hugging up her own knees. Her hair had yet to be tended to, so she was playing with a strand over her shoulder.

"No sleep for the wicked?" she teased, her leg bouncing under the table like it was possessed. "Come sit."

"More like no sleep for the lovesick..." he mumbled and joined her. Strange, Gabriel wasn't even up yet. Well, hearing that comment, he may have been strapped to the bed upstairs.

"You couldn't sleep as well or are you just an early bird?"

"Gets the worm," she teased with a sharp grin.

Then, finally, she stopped petting her hair and curled up her other knee, hugging both of them to her chest, and leaning forward.

"I'm sorry. I'm not being easy this morning. I did not get much sleep, but I am happier for it than you are. Bad dreams?"

He was pouring both of them some tea and watched the steam curling up for a moment before answering. At least one of them was in a good mood.

"No, no, the dreams were nice, actually. You may find that I'm an insufferable fool but I... It's just hard to fall asleep on my own again." He sighed deeply and took his cup, blowing on it absent-minded. "But I'm glad that you're happy. So I guess the surprise was a success." He was leaning in and added, more quietly, "Guess he's recovering, huh?"

"He should get as much sleep as he can," she whispered back. "I do not want him to have a moment's rest proper while I'm here, in case he doesn't...." Beatrice wrinkled her nose and reached for the tea. "Want to...wed."

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and watched Beatrice from the side. He could feel a twisting in his gut, not unpleasant but elicited by a feeling of hope. He tried to play it off.

"Oh. Has he made any implications? Other than doing whatever you do up there, as it is. I don't think that he's the type to indulge just for the sake of pleasure, you know." Oh please someone, let this happen. "He can be a little thick sometimes."

"He's thick. In more ways than one." Beatrice spoke into her mug and nearly choked with laughter while hiding in her tea.

Aziraphale  _ was _ choking. He struggled with a coughing fit for almost five minutes before calming down again. The noise attracted more people in the house and after a short while, they were joined by the whole family.

Gabriel looked thoroughly pleased with himself and was all smiles and in a good mood, glancing up to Beatrice all the time. At the end of the breakfast, he cleared his throat and asked their parents for a moment in the study.

Aziraphale looked at Beatrice, smiling. This may develop into a fine morning. After about fifteen minutes, Beatrice's attendance was demanded and Aziraphale was left alone in the kitchen with that same unfettered giddy feeling.

It took another half an hour before someone was knocking on Aziraphale’s door. He had retreated to his room with nothing else to do, trying to occupy himself with some reading. When he asked for the person to enter, Gabriel poked his head in.

"Aziraphale, we're heading out to the Starbright's. There are...matters to be discussed and I figured you would like to join."

"Put on your best outfit," Beatrice said, practically jumping behind Gabriel’s shoulder to see into Aziraphale's room.

She was meant to remain downstairs to discuss with the Fells on this...arrangement. But she had slipped them quite quickly with her own wiles and went on her chase to find Gabriel and, yes, oddly enough, Aziraphale too. 

"Did you tell him?" she whispered, tugging on Gabriel's ear, an annoying gnat of a woman who would rarely he ignored.

"Ouch! No I didn't, we still need permission from your side! Well...as she said, dress up a little."

And with that he closed the door, leaving a bewildered Aziraphale that needed a moment before bolting out of his arm chair and raiding his wardrobe.

Not fifty minutes later, their carriages were coming to a halt in front of the well known home of the Starbright's. Michael had pointed out that Aziraphale shouldn't be the one so nervous, but he couldn't help it. It was like this was his own attempt to ask for Crowley's hand in marriage and somehow, if everything kept on going well, it was. Kind of.

They stepped outside and headed for the door. No one was expecting them, so it was normal that they weren't greeted right away, but Aziraphale looked out for that flash of red anyways. They were instead greeted by the familiar grumpy face of Mr. Shadwell, who was confronted with a whole entourage.

"He dinnae even send word?" The accusation was quietly grumbled as Shadwell did his best to invite the family in while sending Sam quick to catch Nathaniel before they were surprised. It was well enough after breakfast to be locked away in his study, Mrs. Starbright in the library and Crowley off into town to deal with another of their manufacturer's foremen with the help of Mr. Mouche. 

"Come in, come in. Suspect you don't want t' freeze t' death." Not that it was  _ that _ cold, what with the sun up and all. "Your father's just stepped out, Miss, so whatever flimflam you want to propose, you might as well wait in the drawing room. This way." 

Shadwell glanced over his shoulder and caught Aziraphale's eye, but gave no warmer welcome than he did with the others, simply herding them up and leading them in. Gabriel actually grinned at the word “propose” and followed Shadwell and the rest. Aziraphale looked back at Shadwell, giving him a short smile and nod but nothing more as well. 

So Crowley was not here. Well this was not ideal, but he couldn’t do much about it but follow the rest as well. If there would have been the opportunity, he’d rather sneak up to Crowley’s room, waiting there for his return. Instead, he was standing there in the drawing room, a little to the side and fidgeting with his sleeves. 

_ Oh please, let this work. Just this once _

"And can I get you lot anythin’?" Shadwell asked with his best intent to be polite.

"I did not think we would have company and...well." Nathaniel Starbright paused a moment in the entryway. As always, a tall, thin man with now very light hair, as his eldest son had come to it naturally at an earlier age. Nathaniel still kept it neat on top with wisps curling away from the sides. 

"You've brought the whole company with you," Nathaniel said with a restrained smile, entering to shake Mr. Fell's hand and kiss Mrs. Fell's. "And to what do we owe this pleasure?" 

He casually glanced at Beatrice, always pausing a moment when she was in her cousin's clothes, though had stopped commenting on it by her thirteenth year. Beatrice had Gabriel's arm with a steady, knowing smile and upturned nose that made her look like she was of the ruling class.

Aziraphale tried to hide a little behind the others. Maybe he should go and help Shadwell get drinks or anything. Yes, that was a good idea.

“Maybe a refreshment? There was much talking already on our way here. Let me help you, dear fellow.”

He didn’t care if his parents saw him heading right to the kitchen. He knew everything by heart and they were occupied anyways. Meanwhile, Gabriel straightened his posture and held out his hand to Mr. Starbright. There was no visible sign of nervousness, except for a little twitch on the corner of his mouth when he put on that practiced smile.

“Mr. Starbright, I’m here to sincerely ask for Miss Mouche’s hand in marriage. She already said yes, so I hope to get the approval of her father as well. Now, it would be wonderful if you and Mrs. Starbright would give your blessings as well, since she’s your niece. I do apologize for the sudden intrusion but I... _ we _ couldn’t wait any longer.”

He was looking down at Beatrice, smiling a little warmer and softer.

Aziraphale was glad that his little escape had gone unnoticed so far. He leaned against the kitchen table, sighing and waiting for either an outburst or other signs of reaction from Nathaniel.

"You want to marry–"

But Nathaniel was interrupted by Lillian, who had touched his arm and smiled at their guests. 

"I think Jean will be very happy to hear this, don't you?"

Nathaniel covered her hand and braced himself with the help of a little pinch under his waistcoat from his wife's slender fingers.

"Right," he answered after a moment. 

Shadwell did indeed follow after Aziraphale into the kitchen and barely waited for the door to swing shut before he was practically barreling into Aziraphale, oddly enough smiling.

"Married? They're to be  _ married? _ And what kinda witchcraft was performed on yer brother to convince such a thing?"

“If Mister Mouche agrees, yes! And I don’t have a clue, dear Shadwell, but they actually  _ like _ each other. I think Beatrice just needed a little encouragement. And Gabriel...well I think he was quite sure about that for a while, but waited for the perfect moment. Good thing she took the reigns, as to speak, otherwise this could have gone on another year or so...”

He was laughing now, a little nervous. Both of them marrying still didn’t mean that the business issue was taken care of. She was only a cousin, from his mother's side as well and Nathaniel maintained the air of someone who was too stubborn. It was still a state of uncertainty and he wished desperately for Crowley to be here and share this with him, so it would ease it up a little.

“When did Crowley and Mr. Mouche leave? Do think it’ll take longer for them to come back? I really don’t want to be impolite, but I would rather keep on hiding in the kitchen until this is settled than sit out there with all of them.”

"And yer welcome to," Shadwell said with a firm pat to his shoulder, then slid into a seat, putting up his feet, and lighting his pipe he fetched from his pocket. So much for getting those refreshments. Certainly the crowd would not notice? "Take a seat. They left early, so I suspect it'll be an hour yet for them to be home, if negotiations go well with that Tyler fella. You want something to drink, mm? You know where t' find it."

Since no screaming could be heard from outside, Aziraphale grabbed what was left of the mornings tea and poured some. Maybe it could calm him down a little. 

Some laughter and chatter floated into the kitchen from time to time, mostly from Lillian and Constanze. Beatrice was actually showing Gabriel around this time and whatever the two heads of the family were up to, Aziraphale did not know. Maybe they were hiding away somewhere as well.

Sadly, the tea did not help. Similar to Beatrice's behavior this morning, Aziraphale bounced his knee restlessly under the table. Only yesterday, time seemed to be in such a hurry and today it was dragging on like a snail crawling through honey. He was glancing to the door every so often, wishing for a sign of Crowley’s return. How Shadwell was enduring all his nervous knee bouncing, sighing, and huffing was a miracle. Aziraphale started to get on his  _ own  _ nerves.

“Do you think,” Aziraphale finally started, shuffling his cup around, “that this union could be beneficial to the family? The Starbrights?”

Shadwell had a sleepy expression–one had to wonder what he was smoking in that pipe, though it wasn't much of anything and even that it was laced with cherry of all things–before he focused and an impish smile curled up on his age-rugged face.

"Beneficial?" Shadwell asked, nodding, patting his chest to find his matches. "Mm, and why should it be beneficial only to the Starbrights, I wonder?"

Before Aziraphale could answer, however, there was a noticeable lull in the conversation. A dead stop, in fact, that seemed to paralyze the house. It picked back up, as these things do, but it was punctuated by someone shoving open the kitchen door. 

Crowley crossed the kitchen and took Aziraphale's hands. 

"How? You. They...." Eloquent as ever, but grace could be communicated less with words and more with a heated embrace.

"Hey! Y'knock my tea over into my lap, I'll knock you, laddie," Shadwell shouted, scooting a little away from the table.

Aziraphale breathed out a laugh, his nervousness leaving him when he flung his arms around his husband as well. It had not been half a day since they’d seen each other, had it? Maybe a little longer? It felt like it had been weeks again, really.

“They just needed a little nudge in the right direction as it seems. They have correspondences. Did you know that?” He kept on laughing until he felt grounded again. Aziraphale pulled back a little to look up in Crowley’s face to see him properly. “But we don’t know if your uncle approves. And for the other thing, well, I don’t know if they proposed that or if they ever will. About the businesses…. Maybe after the marriage or...I don’t know. I guess we have to wait and see.”

Aziraphale lay a hand on Crowley’s cheek, ignoring Shadwell’s presence for a moment when he stretched up to kiss his nose. “At least, we can wait together.”

Aziraphale was very sweet, the way he calmed and touched and even if Shadwell was grumbling, Crowley seemed to be pleased with it. He nudged Aziraphale's hand aside before he simply held him tightly. It felt much brighter now, didn't it? Much...closer. Real. That future. Crowley could breathe, and he did so against Aziraphale's shoulder.

Beatrice had to sit politely with Aunt Lillian and Mrs. Fell and, oddly, the stiff and perpetually unhappy Michael while Mr. Mouche, Mr. Starbright, and Gabriel had a serious discussion together. And then even Nathaniel was sent out of his own study, as this wasn't up to him.

After what felt like a whole day, Gabriel finally stepped out of the study, looking pleased with himself and a little exhausted maybe.

They were called to meet in the drawing room again, so Crowley and Aziraphale had to leave their little sanctuary in the kitchen to join their families.

Aziraphale stayed close, clutching Crowley's hand and squeezing it, even though he earned a stern look from Michael. He could stuff it for all that Aziraphale thought, looking up at Crowley who was smiling at Constanze and Lillian gossiping until the doors opened and Mr. Mouche stepped out. Beatrice could have started on fire from the way she jolted up from her seat, using whatever restraint she had not to rush over to Gabriel, who betrayed almost nothing on his face. Mr. Mouche just smiled as well, calm and collected, and touched Gabriel’s arm briefly as he smiled at his daughter. 

And then, finally, it was announced there would be a union between the Fell's and the Mouche's.

Something snapped in the air. It was a moment to realize it was actually Beatrice and Gabriel, who had moved while Contsanze and Lillian shared their congratulations. Beatrice had rushed Gabriel hard enough to knock the wind out of him, though he recovered smoothly and patted their back, trying not to look too embarrassed. 

Jean had accepted the proposal, though there had been some negotiations. There was much cheering and excitement and Gabriel was even so bold as to give Bea's hand a kiss in front of everyone.

Aziraphale's heart felt light for a different reason. It worked! Well, at least partially. Their families were much closer now and, as it seemed, they didn't want to wait to make it official until next spring but seal this before winter came for good. Constanze was offering to contact the priest in charge right away.

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, not really listening to a word that was said, smiling like a fool. Before he could say something hopeful to his secret husband, Gabriel stepped in, laying a big hand on Crowley's shoulder.

"So, now that we can be considered family officially, I would like to have a word with you and your father, if that's possible. I'll bring him back in one piece, Aziraphale, you have my word.

Crowley almost kissed Aziraphale's hand too, a little thing if he had dared to, but Bea might snap his wrists if he took from her day, so he just smiled and tried to keep the confusion off his face as he went to follow Gabriel, his father's face hilariously identical to his son's. 

They retired to the study while Jean insisted on drinks and to tease his daughter lightly in a way their family often did.

Beside the marriage proposal, another was made. Gabriel was all business, right in his element, when he told Nathaniel Starbright exactly how he planned to be involved in the Starbright enterprise, how it would do well to combine with the Fell’s, joining forces, so to speak.

It didn't have to be an immediate thing, of course, but a logical one, with their overlapping in some parts and the prospect to expand in others. It was like Gabriel had prepared himself for this, stating numbers, pointing out the benefits and taking the few risks in account. He ensured that the family's name wouldn't be erased, of course not, and that Crowley could always join in as a business partner.

"I would like to resign myself from that prospect effective as immediately as possible," Crowley said seriously, his arms tucked tightly behind his back.

Nathaniel balked, his head already spinning at the audacity that Gabriel brought to these negotiations prior to his niece's wedding. 

"Why? It's the family business. I thought...what about your legacy?"

"Father, with all due respect, fuck the family legacy." Crowley softened his posture, almost submissive but not quite when he saw the instant and justified anger on his father's face. "It is not my desire to continue. I have no soul nor head nor heart for it. It belongs entirely to the man I love, who has been kind enough to wait for me still, now, out–"

"Crowley," Nathaniel said, his tone a warning one.

"I love him. And I cannot pretend my life will continue here any longer. I know our marriage is naught but promises now, but it is real to me."

" _ Crowley, _ you–"

"And just because you do not approve does not mean I do not still love him!" Crowley shouted over him. "Mr. Fell is a bloody godsend to you! A strong man who can finally take over the business like the son you wish you had. He–!"

Nathaniel was much closer and Crowley's voice was starting to falter. 

"H-He...he will...."

Nathaniel suddenly embraced him, crushing him quickly to his chest. Crowley froze, naturally, but he didn't fight to get away either. 

"I'm sorry," Nathaniel whispered, cupping the back of his son’s head while he held him tight. "I'm sorry. I know. I've been hard on you, doubly so after your brother.... I only want the best for you. I thought doing it properly was still the right way and...I know.” 

Nathaniel pulled back far enough to hold his son's shocked face. "I've known since he started coming over more and more. Even before I caught you.... Your mother thinks I'm dense to it, but it's clear as daylight. And I'm sorry I've kept you apart. Selfishly, I just wanted this family to succeed where I had so plainly failed."

Gabriel tried hard to not pull a face. He felt like he shouldn't be here at all in such a heartfelt moment between father and son. Since there was nothing else to do, he tried to blend in with the background as much as possible, waiting for this very uncomfortable moment to pass. After a time that seemed appropriate for such a matter, he cleared his throat to get their attention back. 

"I would be delighted to learn what I need from you directly, Mr. Starbright, so that I'll be able to keep everything up to your wishes."

Nathaniel and Crowley parted, laughing a little awkwardly, nearly wiping the same eye at the same time with another short laugh. But, they finally faced Gabriel, with one last promise to have a conversation with Crowley and Aziraphale in the near future. 

"Right. Apologies, Gabriel. This has been a very exciting day and I imagine you would like to be returned to your beloved...beloveds," he said pointedly and nodded once. "As would I. Future discussions on the business can wait. I hope we might celebrate the happy occasion instead." He motioned for Gabriel to exit first, if he so chose, and to have them return to the group that was waiting patiently or impatiently in the drawing room.

Gabriel was relieved to go back to the others and welcomed the offer to go first. When he got out of the door, he was witness to a really absurd display.

Outside, Aziraphale was pacing the corridor up and down. He had, to his own shame, eavesdropped twice, but winced away when voices started rising. He had used the servants’ passage again as to avoid anyone else and was leaning against the wall a little farther off now.

This was going on for quite some time now and Gabriel really had some guts to propose to Beatrice  _ and _ ask for a merge of the families business in one go. Or maybe Beatrice had been very convincing (or intimidating) to push that matter as soon as possible. 

Either way, the nerves were coming back and he wouldn't be surprised if one of his buttons might come undone from all the fidgeting. Right now, he was twisting his ring. If this would go all pear-shaped, he may never be allowed to meet Crowley and they would have to go back to secret meetings and would his heart even be able to handle it? Would Crowley’s? Would he follow after Hastur and abandon his family just to get away from it all?

Aziraphale sighed deeply and tried to shake off that dreadful thought. Such a thing would not happen, no. They've come so far, nothing would threaten their relationship now.

Speaking of relationship threats, he was pulled out of his train of thought by Michael. His brother must have spotted him running off or, at the very least, had decent tracking skills. Must be that from his time in the army. Michael looked sternly down to his little brother, that judgmental frown carved deep upon his face.

"I should never have left. I'm out of the house for several weeks and both of you are  _ fraternizing _ . Gabriel was at least decent enough to pick a wife, as strange as she is, thinking about our future and legacy.  _ You _ on the other hand are chasing a romantic fantasy that'll never live up to anything in the real world. You should grow up Aziraphale!"

The audacity to say something like this,  _ out loud _ , in the house of their future family was something only Michael could manage. He always acted like the omnipresent judge and executioner, an air of twisted righteousness around him. Aziraphale wouldn't have any of it right now. He stood up and wore his most pristine, most polite and distant smile he could possess.

"Dear brother,” Aziraphale started calmly, “how about you look after yourself for a change and get that pike speared up your bum examined and stop sticking your face in other people's affairs?" He patted Michael’s cheek with a stiff smile. "We would all dearly appreciate it. Now, I am done with you. And I would very much not like to be in your company.”

Michael had been looming over Aziraphale down the hallway a ways, but the latter was unimpressed. Gabriel had never seen such an expression on his little brother's face, like a cold rage that would make him carve someone's heart out with a spoon. Gabriel’s face were drawn to his brother and Michael retreated with an angry huff. Aziraphale lit up but he did not take a step forward before the others came out. He only glanced when he heard Gabriel laugh and finally, finally stepped out of the shadows, just to see Gabriel smile and wink.  _ Wink _ ! What a strange day it was indeed.

Well, at least after Gabriel came out of the study, Mr. Starbright and his son would be next and Aziraphale held his breath.

Crowley went forward, ready to leap into Aziraphale's arms, when his father caught his elbow and tugged him back. Crowley faltered, looked confused and a little worried, as Nathaniel stepped around him and went directly up to Aziraphale. He studied the man, quiet in his contemplation and his assessment, before he offered his hand. 

"I hope for the best for you and my son," Mr. Fell said evenly, rigid only because strangers and the demands of his position and the audience back in the drawing room was not very conducive to a warmer, more welcoming display, at least in his mind. "And I look forward to seeing the future you two build together."

All the courage he'd used to stand up to his brother was gone as soon as Nathaniel Starbright was walking straight up to him. Aziraphale swallowed hard and braced himself for whatever...but not  _ that _ . He looked down to the offered hand, blinking twice before taking it and looking the man straight in the eyes. His handshake was actually firm.

"Thank you, Mr. Starbright. This means more to me than you might imagine."

_ Looking forward to the future we build together? _

The meaning of those words sunk in, slowly. Aziraphale’s face made a journey from confused over to enlightened until it ended in pure joy. He thanked Nathaniel and let go of his hand, trying very hard to bottle up the all-consuming happiness.

"Would it be alright if Crowley and I have a word in private for a second? We'll catch up in a jiffy, I promise. Just a few minutes."

Nathaniel nodded, heading to the others to celebrate the new developments. And to flee that display of affection that was about to happen.

His heel barely disappeared behind the corner as Aziraphale ran up to his husband, flinging his arms around and holding him tight like a man about to drown.

Crowley clutched Aziraphale, both rope and anchor, nearly toppling to the ground. He kissed Aziraphale immediately, so hard they actually did buckle and would have gone to their knees if they weren't near a wall to brace against. 

"Love," Crowley whispered feverishly against him. "He said 'yes.' And he...and we can...and Gabriel-" 

Words were not about to come about in any right order just then, so he smashed that overwhelming love against Aziraphale’s lips and cheeks and even his hands at one point to make up for his inarticulate mess.

"I know. I know, dearest." Aziraphale hiccuped, happy tears rolling down his cheeks while he held Crowley in his hands. "You...you should think about what you'd like to pack. I can finally take you home."

The last word was whispered, too good to be true, too fragile to be blurted out or it may shatter. He kissed Crowley again, bumping their noses, but it was wonderful nonetheless.

They made it. Finally, they made it. There was a future. Together.

After more frantic kissing and holding, Aziraphale vaguely remembered why he was here in the first place.

"I think we should join the others, otherwise we won't make it to London alive."

He gave Crowley a last peck and tugged him along.

**-**

It was only the saving grace of celebrations underway that made the rest of the afternoon tolerable. Drinking, toasting, laughing, ostracizing Michael to the corner, more drinking. It seemed revelry was quickly pushed to the forefront as Beatrice sat too close and comfortable to her fiance and they swapped stories, jokes, and anecdotes like they might trade precious commodities or secrets or kisses. Very soon, the stuffy manner that seemed naturally imposed upon them dissolved, with the insistence of wine and food to help.

At some point Lillian pulled herself away from Constanze - the two the fastest of friends, it seemed, like they had known each other since they were little girls - to congratulate Crowley and Aziraphale appropriately. She hugged them both for a good while, kissed their cheeks and laughed and nearly cried with them. 

When dinner should have happened, it was substituted with snacks and taken in the large drawing room instead of sitting in the dining room with even more drink that Shadwell had a mind to get everyone set up with guest bedrooms quickly. 

It was during this happy chatter that Crowley finally snuck away with Aziraphale, up to his room, with intent to pack their things. Home. Their home. One they would share together as long as they breathed, to craft as they pleased. It was so much to consider that Crowley felt nearly sick with joy.

It may have been the wine, or the joy but Azirpahle felt so lightheaded, he thought he was floating up those stairs. They were giggling, holding hands and everything seemed brighter and more brilliant. 

There really should have been a talk about what Crowley’s essentials were, what he could leave behind and such, but right now, Aziraphale couldn’t be bothered with it. He had been reasonable for such a long time (more or less) and now, he just wanted to keep that high, the feeling of real freedom. He embraced his husband from behind and let his hands rest flat on his chest while he pressed close, kissing the shell of his ear.

“Maybe, we can pack later. I just want to hold you now.”

A steady breath for them both as Crowley covered Aziraphale's hands, suddenly so exhausted. 

“Yes. Please. Right now. Right - hold on."

Crowley stepped out of Aziraphale's embrace just to stretch up and get the key. One of the final times they would have to worry about it and while their union was approved vocally now by his parents, any tipsy tour through the upstairs hallways didn't need to accidentally end up in Crowley’s bedroom. He locked it and set the key back into place before he turned back to Aziraphale, tugging on his lapels, waltzing backwards to his bed.

With a soft chuckle, Aziraphale followed and started their well practiced routine of shedding their clothes along the way. It was really remarkable that they were just down to their shirts and breeches the moment Crowley’s legs hit the bed and Aziraphale was slowly climbing atop of him while kissing.

Oh there was so much kissing. Soft and long, savoring the sweet taste of freedom and victory. He only added a hint of tongue when both their lips were already red and swollen from their languid activity. There was no need to rush anymore, no harsh burning like a pure ignited bonfire. It was like the warmth of a hearth’s embers and Aziraphale relaxed and let his hands roam over his husbands shoulders, chest, diving in his collar to run his fingertips over the taut stretched skin there.

Crowley pressed his chest into Aziraphale's touch with just the softest sound, an approval or a regard for what he was doing, his own eyes roaming sleepily across his husband’s form. Not that he was going to sleep soon, just that he was afforded the time to be slow, to be careful, to drink deeply in a languishing and unhurried fashion he did not know he could possess nor covet so much. They had all the time in the world now. 

"I never noticed," he whispered absently, tracing a part of Aziraphale's cheek, a tiny line that went to a little dimple. "You have a freckle here." Crowley grinned and leaned in to kiss it soon after, resting there as a sparrow rests after a long and arduous flight, now perched among honeysuckle and sunlight.

Aziraphale smiled wide and enjoyed that little discovery.

"Didn't even notice myself. You got some on you as well. I've noticed how they spread over that wonderful nose of yours in summer, when you were outside, terrorizing your plants."

Aziraphale spoke with a voice loaded with affection. Now, with less sun and the cold, Crowley’s freckles had faded a little, but Aziraphale knew exactly where they'd been. He softly ran a finger over the bridge of Crowley’s nose, then to either side of his cheeks. He leaned in then, kissing his traced path.

"And I remember more of them scattered over your wonderful shoulders, like stars."

Aziraphale's hand slid down to the collar again, moving it aside cautiously to place kisses from the neck in the direction of the shoulder. He took his time, like he would explore something new, despite knowing every inch so well by now.

Despite their familiarity, this delicate touch was almost as electric as their first time. Crowley didn't feel like squirming, per say, just unravelling. 

His mouth opened of its own accord, a light panting not from fervent lovemaking and a pressing timeline, but the love of  _ love. _ Of  _ forever. _ Of a union that felt, at its core, finally, ineffable. Grim portents banished. Dreary days still plausible, but survivable now.

He rocked gently into Aziraphale, letting him have more access to his collar, his shirt, while his own hands found their favorite spot on Aziraphale's tummy.

Aziraphale smiled into Crowley’s shoulder. He still couldn’t grasp why Crowley liked that particular part of him so much, but who was he to complain about being shown so much love in a single touch. They stayed like this for a while, just caught up in the feeling of finally being able to have each other completely.

The wish to feel more skin was stronger though, so Aziraphale’s hands ran down the sides of his husband, pressing in a little to feel every rib, every muscle moving underneath that linen. When he reached Crowley’s waistband, the shirt tucked in was slowly pulled out. Aziraphale slid down to kiss the small strip of skin that was revealed and continued this on his way up, while he shifted the shirt further up. He tried to cover every last part of this outrageously wonderful being with his declarations of love. Feeling a little cheeky, he dipped his tongue in Crowley’s belly button.

Crowley was just about to finally remove the shirt for him, stretching with a languid sigh, when Aziraphale tongued his belly button and surprised him into laughter.

"Cheek!" Crowley yanked the shirt off faster and tossed it aside only to hug up Aziraphale tighter. "Come up here and try again." 

Crowley tugged Aziraphale up and asked, or more closely demanded, a proper kiss, even as he wiped off his belly button, simply because he had not expected it and now it felt weirdly cold. Aziraphale obeyed with a chuckle, but not before he was out of his shirt completely and embracing Crowley’s naked torso. There, much better. That moment when their bare bodies touched without anything to separate them was among Aziraphale’s favorites. It just felt right, a place to be.

He was nosing Crowley’s jaw up to his ear after, nestling the length of the long torso.

“I want to worship you. Every last inch, all of you. I want to show you how much I love you because I’m not capable of putting it into words, I’m afraid. Would you let me?”

"Worship?" Crowley held back the fluttery laugh that tried to escape him. "Should I not be doing that to you? I should be laid at your feet, sir. I should be sculpting monuments to you, but I'm fairly certain I'd chip off a finger before I got anything decent into the marble." 

Aziraphale's tenderness flustered Crowley to the point of pink splotches on his neck and shoulders, which he tried to hide with clever little things like kissing Aziraphale's eyes or snaking his head down to kiss his sides. But then he'd pause on one of Aziraphale's hands, on his fingers, and kiss from the nail down to the little band of gold and he'd have to remember he was so damn lucky. That earned Crowley a shaky breath. This gesture, so small and soft, almost took Aziraphale apart. They could be husbands now, legitimate or not, they were and always would be, like they had promised each other. He could feel his eyes welling up and his vision went a little blurry. Aziraphale’s other hand stroked his husband's head, watching him for some fleeting moments.

“We could start a debate about who’s the one worth being worshiped and cherished, but I fear there would be no clear answer to that and it would turn into an endless discussion.” 

Aziraphale smiled and withdrew his hand, only to lift Crowley’s head up with it to kiss him lightly. He then pushed him back into the mattress, softly, trailing down with a string of kisses until he was hitting that waistband again; instead of undoing the buttons or anything else involving the trousers, Aziraphale sat back on his heels and let his hands drag over the long legs trapped within.

“But let me tell you that for me, you need to be worshiped. You deserve everything good in this world and I’ll try my best to make that happen for you. Always.”

He smiled down at Crowley and raised one leg, scooting down a little more to properly take it in hand. Aziraphale started to tug on the sock then, getting it out of the pant leg and started to roll it down slowly. He kissed the bare knee, over the shin, nuzzling the leg a little until he got the sock off. With one last kiss to Crowley’s knee, Aziraphale turned to the other leg to do the same. His pace was still slow, his movements reverent.

“Your mouth is like fine wine - flowing smoothly for my love, gliding past my lips and teeth. I belong to my love, and his desire is for me.”

Crowley had to clamp his hands tightly over his mouth as Aziraphale removed his socks. It was the first time he could truly understand what he had been doing to Aziraphale when he teased him about his boots and removed them as reverently as possible. There was nothing overtly sexual about it, nothing obscene, but he felt obscene just to be witness and subject to it and he bit his palm to smother himself.

That, and Crowley had gone very red, in the moment of it all. He should bury his head. But he did not want to take his eyes off Aziraphale or miss a bloody second of him.

_ To you, for you, all of you, _ Crowley thought.

Aziraphale reached up to the buttons of the trousers now, undoing them one by one, carefully, like they would break otherwise. Aziraphale’s face was serene as he was unwrapping his lover like a gift, a rare find that needed to be handled with care and dedication. With the buttons done, he took the waistband and slowly dragged the trousers down, in the same slow and fond manner as before. Leaning in again, Aziraphale started to press kisses onto the thin trail of red hair, starting right under the navel and following it down, while his hands rested on Crowley’s thighs. Upon reaching the pubic bone, he nuzzled in the juncture between legs and hips, pressing soft kisses there until he started to speak again.

“I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine.”

More kisses to the inside of Crowley’s thigh.

“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered for love all the wealth of his house, it would be utterly scorned...”

_ Don't get a bloody erection over the _ fucking  _ bible, _ Crowley warned himself, his stomach jumping as he started a breathless laugh. Nothing much, almost a hiccup than anything. At some point he had started to tear up, which further smothered himself in his embarrassment. 

"Aziraphale." 

Crowley reached for him, resting his hand gently on his husband's - his husband, his  _ husband _ ,  _ his husband _ -head, delicately threading into his soft hair. 

"Best not recite 8:8 at me," he whispered and laughed again, a nervous, flighty sound, which only exasperated the painful tenderness he felt, the love.

That comment made Aziraphale falter in his determination and he stifled his laugh in Crowley’s thigh, his shoulders shaking with the effort to tamp it down.

“I wouldn’t dare to make such comments about your breasts, dear.” Aziraphale chuckled and leaned against the soft flesh to look up in the most beautiful eyes ever created. His smile was soft and dreamy, his eyes full of love. That’s how stories of star-crossed lovers should end, not the sad and dramatic path Romeo and Juliet had to take. 

No, they were happy, alive and together. After Aziraphale drank in the moment, staring at his husband like he had hung the stars, Aziraphale brought his attention back to the soft thigh under his cheek. He moved his head to kiss again, slowly spreading Crowley’s legs so he had enough room to operate the way he intended to. As he got high enough, Aziraphale licked his way up the groin to the hip bone.

Crowley's giggling subsided into just happy hums, then careful whimpers. He twitched again, spurned on by Aziraphale's touches and...oh, his tongue. 

"I think...." Crowley had to swallow twice to get anything like a proper word out, his fist tightening slightly in Aziraphale's hair. "I think my breasts are...quite nice."

Filthy four letter word,  _ 'nice _ .'

Crowley dragged his fingernails back through his own hair and caught at his hairline where he gripped much harder and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. There it was, wasn't it. The unravelling.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” was the answer after Aziraphale had reached one of his favorite spots on this lovely body. He repeated his ministrations on the other leg as well, again slowly and with much reverence. He tried to keep track of all the little signs that would give away if Crowley would be too much on edge or not. Right now, it was just a slow tease and Aziraphale wanted them to enjoy this for as long as they liked, or more likely, until one of them couldn’t hold it together anymore.

Next, Aziraphale turned his attention to that delectable cock, waiting for him between the splayed out legs. He started to kiss up the shaft from root to tip, just stopping under the head while his hands found their way up to the mentioned chest, squeezing it lightly.

The pure, unfiltered delight, the ease with which Crowley laughed made him feel lighter than anything. He had to cover Aziraphale's hands, help him squeeze Crowley's chest, and just...laughed. Laughed and laughed, up towards the ceiling and into his pillow and even when he curled his leg over Aziraphale's shoulder so he could pet down the small of Aziraphale’s back with his heel.

It wouldn't take much before Crowley was standing stiffly at attention, sensitive to a little puff of air over the tip or when Aziraphale kissed him. The ache of the build up was tapered off with that delightful laugh and even when that wasn't cutting down his arousal, he pushed himself up to be sitting, reaching, and kissed the top of Aziraphale's head.

Hearing Crowley laugh made all of this infinitely better. It was so free and pure and most of all infectious, so Aziraphale had to chuckle himself while still paying attention to Crowley's cock. The kiss on his head made him starve for more and he sat up to kiss the familiar lips, drinking in the joy and happiness being shared so freely. 

Aziraphale used the change of their positions to take a hold of Crowley’s hips, lifting him slightly to get him to sit on his lap. Only then Aziraphale noticed that he was still wearing his trousers. He huffed a laugh and looked at the piece of clothing that still had the nerve to cling to his body.

"I'm terribly overdressed, I'm afraid."

Crowley caught Aziraphale's hands and helped guide them up over his own shoulders and looped them around, hugging him around the middle.

"You are. I'm afraid." He shrugged, sitting perfectly naked in Aziraphale’s lap. But he touched their foreheads together and chuckled again, staring down to their laps, the way his cock was squished up against Aziraphale's stomach. "Did you want me to remove yours, hmm? Finish undressing you?"

"That sounds perfect, actually. But you just made yourself comfortable..."

Aziraphale kissed his cheeks and leaned to the side so he could nuzzle the hair there and nibble at the soft earlobe. His hands were back in Crowley’s hair, massaging the scalp and pressing him closer.

That wasn't conducive to undressing.

Crowley pressed in closer, his hands wandering around the back, where he squeezed and slightly dug his fingernails into the warm flesh over where Aziraphale’s kidneys might be. And then immediately flattened his hands over the tiny crescent-moon indents. 

"But're you...nn...are you comfortable?" Crowley asked in a soft, sensual whisper.

Aziraphale’s breath hitched at the press and he arched his back a little, so he was pressing even closer.

"I am. I am, dearest, but I think I would be even more so if I could feel all of you. Everywhere."

Aziraphale ached for it. Yearned to be close. So close that they would be merging into one, because that was what they were, two halves of a whole, complementing each other. Aziraphale’s hips gave an upward roll at the thought.

"Mngh! Angel...." 

Crowley stretched his neck upwards for a moment and then wriggled back, until he had room to kneel appropriately over Aziraphale.

"Work of art, this one," Crowley muttered, working on the fasts of Aziraphale’s trousers. "Divine incarnate, I should think. My very own angel, full of love and grace and... _ there you are, _ " he added with such a hunger that he almost salivated, just before he leaned forward and nuzzled the little tuft of white hair and the peek of skin he saw of Aziraphale's delicious cock.

It took a bit of maneuvering, some more gentle kisses and giggles to get Aziraphale to lay down so Crowley could work the band down over Aziraphale's rear. He tipped forward, barely able to catch himself before he face planted into Aziraphale’s belly. Crowley recovered by kissing Aziraphale, down his soft skin, and back between his legs and further back so Aziraphale was finally,  _ finally, _ blessedly naked with him.

He had dared to recite romantic Bible passages so it was only fair to be flustered as well by the compliments his husband was giving so easily. Aziraphale's cheeks were tinged a lovely rosy color that was blooming down to his chest, but he managed to keep looking at Crowley undressing him so endearingly.

"Come here," Aziraphale whispered and reached out to brush Crowley's skin, beckoning him into his arms so they could revel in the feeling of becoming whole once more.

No need to ask twice. Crowley returned to him, drawn in with that magnetic need and wrapped himself up around Aziraphale. He could not keep himself from smiling against Aziraphale's lips, but it did not seem that an accidental nip or sloppy kiss was going to deter them.

Falling onto the mattress harder didn't either.

Someone downstairs said something and made the room erupt in laughter and Crowley glanced towards the floor, still grinning. 

"Someday," Crowley whispered, matching their lips after each sentence. "We're going to be like them. Celebrating. Our marriage. Poor souls might've been late to it. But someday...someday...."

"Someday," Aziraphale repeated when he had a chance to breathe, and there was so much love in that word. Because this time, that 'someday' did not mean that they didn't know if they could be together in the far off and uncertain future. This time it meant that they would wait for that day  _ together _ , tucked away in their shared home, just the two of them. "Meanwhile, we can celebrate our chosen bond. Every day. For as long as you'll have me."

Aziraphale had to bite his lip a little, just to not tear up too much. There were more kisses after that, roaming hands that were discovering every inch again and again.

How and who got up to get that well used vial of oil now was forgotten along the way, but Aziraphale put it to good use. Working Crowley open was done at the same slow and tender pace they had set, underlined with more kisses. There couldn't be enough. There was that unspoken desire to match the physical closeness to the one in their hearts again, and Aziraphale enjoyed every second of that sweet and slightly tortuous anticipation. He was looking up at Crowley, smiling, while sliding a third finger into him.

"Just a moment, love. You're the epitome of beauty now, a perfect temptation, really. I wish you could see yourself in moments like this..."

Oh, that was a nice thought. He  _ did _ have a full body mirror back in the flat. It had been there from the beginning and was quite handy when getting dressed. He just found another use for it, if Crowley would agree to such an adventure.

Crowley wasn't sure he could handle seeing himself right now. Not as a negative, of course, just that he felt like there were metal prods stuck on all his nerve endings and he was being zapped with lightning in the most blessed way. It was the slow way they'd gone about this, the languid stretching, the kisses, the biting of hands and lips and earlobes and stumbling into a giggling fit more than once. Another word of praise and he was going to lose it, he was certain. He was full up of love, a skein that was ready to burst. 

"Might...might say the same. For you," Crowley answered and arched his back, his eyes closed against that  _ look _ on his husband's face. Like he was a monolithic creature about to devour him. And then a spark that said he was thinking.  _ Scheming _ maybe. 

Crowley's thighs trembled as he tried to keep them on the mattress and spread out for Aziraphale, an incredibly vulnerable position, but not vulnerable himself, with Aziraphale's care.

_ Relax, relax, relax _ they had repeated and Crowley nodded each time, breathing out. 

"Moment," Crowley groaned, reaching again. "Moments here, Angel. Come up. Get in. God  _ damn _ us I love you so much."

Aziraphale did crawl up to kiss Crowley long and deep while withdrawing his fingers. He sat up then, pulling his husband closer by the hips and tugged both long legs around his waist before lining up, so Crowley could anchor himself if he wanted to. They had done this quite a number of times now, but the moment he pushed in, surrounded by that infernal heat was still overwhelming every time. Aziraphale moaned, rocking in with shallow thrusts first to let Crowley adjust before rolling his hips for a good, deep thrust.

As best he could, Crowley locked his ankles behind Aziraphale's back the moment he was fully seated. 

"Right there," Crowley whispered, smoothed out on the bedding. "Right there, right there. Just need you to stay." 

Crowley wanted movement and rocking and proper good fucking, but, oh, that first moment of being  _ filled _ was as exquisite as the build up. He could see stars later. Right now he wanted complete Aziraphale. Except the dull throb reminded him and he also started to rock against him, encouraging the beginning of some cheerful pace.

Azirphale had to rest against Crowley's forehead to ground himself. He was panting, the feeling of Crowley around him was amazing and the talking! Dear Lord, since when was he talking so much? Not that he was complaining, he  _ loved _ it, but it was hard to keep it together this way.

Of course, Crowley might not be reciting full monologues, mind you, but perhaps the laughter had loosened his tongue enough and he wanted Aziraphale to know he was doing the best damn things. Crowley melted again beneath him, craning his back to look down between them, fixed on the way their bodies met like a tide.

Crowley's movement brought him back to the delightful task at hand though. He grabbed the slim hips and started a slow thrust, pulling almost out and pushing all the way back in.

"I got you. Got you, love. My love."

They were love. Together.

Crowley suddenly sat himself up as far as he dared, right up against Aziraphale, pulling him down with him, sinking together. It was not a violent union, no rough tumbling, but the accumulation of their desires and their love.

He was sure at some point they must get tired, their souls spluttering to an even temperament, but maybe not. Maybe they'd burn and burn and burn and Crowley was certain he could stand in that fire for Aziraphale until forever.

The dampness of their bodies gave some reprieve at the very minimal physical level, and at some point Crowley tossed his head back into the pillow, his body a burning arch built with Aziraphale's hips to buttress him while his vision blanked for a few breathless seconds. If he fell from it... _ when _ he fell, he knew Aziraphale was there to catch him.

And that he did. 

When that beautiful body arched under him, Aziraphale wrung one arm around the narrow waist and got his other under his back, hand pressing in between the shoulder blades.

How he managed the logistics of this, he didn't know at all. The only thing screaming in his mind was to get even closer, deeper, holding his husband when he shook apart. So Aziraphale pulled Crowley up with him, letting him sit firmly in his lap, Crowley cradled snug against him. He kept on thrusting in, breathless and a little frantic at this point from the overwhelming feeling of being one, like their essences were merging. When he joined his beloved in the sweet release, settled deeper within him than ever before, he could only muffle his cries against Crowley's shoulder with his name on the lips as the only coherent thing he was capable of. 

Aziraphale was brimming with euphoria that helped him to keep them up in that position while he slowly rocked up into Crowley to ride out both their orgasms.

Crowley may have bit him. 

At some point. It wasn't intentional! He was overwhelmed and it seemed the best way to hold onto his very soul was to pin it behind his teeth, which was aided by Aziraphale's...something. Skin. Shoulder? ...Neck?

Apologies would be made. Later. When words...were a thing again. Thoughts, too.

The best Crowley could manage were soft little sighs into wherever his face was resting, returning point by distant star point into that human shell. 

No, not sighs. 

"Aziraphale," he kept whispering, or probably closer to, "'Zira...Ziraph..." with an occasional, "Angel" tossed in for good measure. Just one, "I love you," which was a shame. Next time. Next time he would try to say it a thousand times.

Crowley’s legs burned where he clamped them down on either side of his husband, slowly rising and falling like he was riding a trotting horse through the molasses of dreams.

The bite was only a faint sensation that could be examined later. Aziraphale’s movements slowly subsided until he was just holding Crowley close, both his arms still slung around him as if he’d feared Crowley would slither out of them if he’d loosen his hold. Which would probably be the case.

When the tiniest bit of intellect came crawling out from under the thick blanket of blissful afterglow, Aziraphale started to press soft kisses into Crowley’s skin.

“I love you too. So much....”

There, he was able to answer those words again. Aziraphale would never get tired of saying them, not even in a thousand years. Two thousand.  _ Six  _ thousand. He felt almost boneless and Crowley  _ was _ boneless. Aziraphale could feel him slacken in his arms. He softly patted the back of Crowley’s head, trying to get any reaction out of him.

“You’re still with me Crowley, love?”

Crowley chuckled again, nearly limp in Aziraphale’s arms. He pressed against Aziraphale’s neck, feeling some torrent of emotions that could come out in a sob if he wasn't careful. 

"Mmhmm." 

If they moved, he might shatter, so he nodded and released some tension with more gentle laughter.

A broad smile spread across Aziraphale’s face while he nuzzled against a bony shoulder for support. The soft tremors of the laughter sent some nice little tingles up his spine and nothing in the world, no symphony ever written, rang so beautifully in his ears as the sound of Crowley’s post-orgasm laughter. Exhausted and serendipitous and unfathomable and perfect.

He really tried to stay like this, but Aziraphale’s arms started to feel heavy and it was getting harder to keep them both upright. He loathed to lose their connection though.

“Dearest, I need to lay down. Try to hold on a bit...”

Aziraphale maneuvered them slowly so they could lay on their sides. He winced when he slipped out, but the comfort of finally relaxing was a small relief. He entwined their legs and hands as soon as their new position allowed it and looked into Crowley’s face with half-hooded eyes.

“You’re glowing...and I love it. I love you, you know that?”

"I love you," Crowley answered back, collapsing next to him. His eyebrows were pinched together in what looked like disbelief, but he was just trying to adjust to the change in positions, the unhappy emptiness. It was a relief, too but he wasn't ready for that kind of relief. And to be leaking.... His legs were too spent to clamp together. Ah, to hell with this bedding anyhow. They had new bedding in their new home to ruin later. So, Crowley just found Aziraphale and pulled his hands up to his mouth, his eyes closed until he could feel Aziraphale's gaze boring through his skull and finally looked up at him, startled into a gasp.

Aziraphale hadn't done anything. He was lying there, both of them flush and post-euphoria. It was just...the sight of him. Disheveled and so happy. He'd get that look every day now, couldn't he? Unless one of them travelled, but those should be much rarer. No, this was...this was it. This was them.

Crowley smashed his eyes to Aziraphale's hands for a happy, unexpected crying jag. He would be embarrassed about it shortly, but it was that wrung out, nerves-fried-for-the-best-reasons, simply-exhausted-and-in-love sort've cry. Couldn't be helped.

A warm hand rubbed Crowley’s trembling back, pulling him close. He wasn’t taken aback by this, he could easily join in to shed all the happy tears. All the strain and longing, the fear of losing each other one way other was gone. It was mortifying. It was wonderful.

Aziraphale kissed his forehead again and again and just held him through it, with some “I know. I know, darling,” to reassure him that this was all right and good. When the trembling and sniffling stopped, he put a finger under Crowley’s chin to make him look up again.

“Better? Is there something I can do for you? Anything.”

Crowley shook his head best he could with Aziraphale's finger in place.

"Help me pack?" Except Crowley didn't want to and shook his head again, pulling him in closer. "Later. Not now."

“Sure thing. And even if I would like to now, I don’t think I’ll be able to get up soon.”

Aziraphale pulled their joined hands to himself, kissing the ring - the wedding band - with a soft smile.

The way back to London would be wonderful this time. Snuggling in the carriage to keep warm, probably sleeping through the whole ordeal after tonight, but surely with entwined fingers, one’s head on the others shoulder.

“I can’t wait to show you our home. I hope you’ll like it.”

"Tell me about it," Crowley whispered. 

It had been described in letters often, but Aziraphale explaining the layout, the furniture, the neighborhood, everything in person was much better than letters and Crowley smiled as he began to drift off, trying to stave off sleep with hums and nods and casual remarks on a colour or a word that caught his attention, but he couldn't fight it off forever and he fell asleep in Aziraphale's arms.

Aziraphale was close to succumb to sleep as well, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Crowley’s serene and beautiful face, still flushed and so relaxed. He had to remind himself that he would have this every day now, that it was all right to close his eyes because Crowley would still be there tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow and the day after that... He pulled the blanket over them, leaning against his husband’s forehead and listened to the steady breathing while the world turned comfortably silent around them.


	20. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter!

The celebrations in Starbright manor were a blessing, really. Everyone had been up far too late so no one was bothering the pair of young spouses. They had shifted a little in their sleep but upon waking up, Aziraphale was happy to find them still connected, with Crowley sleeping on his chest like a very satisfied cat. He didn’t wake him up, instead watched him a little more in his peaceful slumber and taking in all the little sounds and movements he was making in the long process of waking up. Aziraphale had started to comb through his hair at one point. He couldn’t resist, really. It was good enough for Crowley to turn his face down into Aziraphale's chest and sigh at the contact. When Aziraphale finally stopped playing with his hair, Crowley squeezed him a little around the middle.

"More," Crowley mumbled pathetically and kissed his husband. "Little more, please."

"Braiding your hair or letting you sleep?" was the soft reply while Aziraphale’s fingers kept working. How should he survive this for the rest of their lives? It was almost too adorable. "I think we're in no danger of being kicked out of the sheets; it seems like no one is up yet. If you still want to rest..."

Crowley, while still warm and sleepy, shifted upwards to put his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. He blinked blearily and shifted, gingerly touching a very dark mark on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"I wish it was warmer out," he whispered, and leaned in closer to kiss up the bruise. "So we could get an early swim in the pond. Mm...does this hurt too badly?"

"Oh yes, that would be lovely. Maybe we can do it back in the summer. Does what hu- oh. Oh.” Azirapahle struggled to look down where Crowley poked him. It was throbbing a little, nothing more. Aziraphale quite enjoyed when Crowley marked him like this, intended or not. “It's not too bad. don't you worry."

“I’m going to worry,” Crowley answered and kissed the bruise once more. The kiss gave Aziraphale a moment to sigh and sink deeper into the mattress. He  _ really _ could get used to this.

"You know I invested in a bigger tub?. Back in London, that is. It's not a pond in summer, but I thought it would be rather lovely to... I don't know, take a bath together, scrub each other's backs."

"I'd like my back scrubbed," Crowley said, mostly playful with a touch of seriousness. “Doesn’t a bath take up too much real estate?”

“I don’t like the showers,” Aziraphale whispered and laughed when Crowley closed his eyes and nodded. Every time Aziraphale moved, Crowley made certain to follow after him, shift and resettle so they were fit together like two halves of a whole.

"Did you tell me about the tub last night?" Crowley poked Aziraphale gently on the chest. "Tell me about the tub. I'd like to hear it all. We left off on...curtains...I think." 

And Crowley grinned as he leaned in closer, stealing an early kiss. They had yet to wash their mouths and all, but he decided he just did not care so much and let himself savor and enjoy instead. Aziraphale smiled into the kiss, starting to scratch Crowley's back.

"No, I think I was too distracted from that beautiful face of yours while sleeping."

Aziraphale kissed him again, rubbing their noses together after that, still all smiles and full of love. They were still sticky, especially Crowley, and a bath would be perfect now. Except that it would be hard to keep his hands above the water. Even though disheveled, sleepy and downright filthy they were, Aziraphale would have loved to just tease a little. One of Aziraphale’s fingers traced Crowley’s ribs softly.

Because he could have this now. They had this now.

"I have a considerable pile of books you might find interesting waiting for you. Right at a window, with enough light and a plush and comfortable settee to lounge on. And there's space for your plants. Have I mentioned that it's stationed in Soho? Scandalous neighborhood, you'll love it."

"Soho. I need to look it up," Crowley said, stretching as Aziraphale touched him. He grinned to himself. "No, I won't have to look it up, will I? I'll learn it there with the best guide." 

“Precisely.”

Crowley’s hands settled instantly back onto Aziraphale, where they pet his hair and walked down his shoulders, skipping over the bite, then to his elbows and his chest. He nodded along again but this time he was not distracted by sleep but by intimacy. He could drink this beautiful naked form all day.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to close his eyes, humming contentedly while enjoying the touches. His own hands were wandering over Crowley’s back, with the occasional raking of fingernails here and there.

It wasn't long until they fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying that they would have each other every day now. Aziraphale dragged his lips over Crowley's temple before pulling back.

"You know what other benefits living together in the city will have? There's always an option for a round two in the morning, if we'd like to..."

He chuckled and pressed a firmer kiss to Crowley's forehead. He should be ashamed about such behavior and give his husband time to rest. But he wasn't.

"You find me something to wash off my lower extremities and you can have exactly what you've bargained for," Crowley whispered into Aziraphale's chest. "Mm. Think of it as a goodbye to this little room?"

Crowley stretched his arms up, smiling sleepily towards the ceiling, his hands shifting closer to the ivy, touching the leaves and the array of stolen trinkets. He hummed and pulled a little brass clam shell trinket and held it out. 

"I need to go through these," he said softly, casually, grinning as he remembered the young woman's house he had stolen it from maybe a year or two ago. "Bury some of them around the property. For...good luck."

“Fair,” was the plain answer. When Crowley had so much as slithered off his chest, Aziraphale got up to get his poor husband some washcloth. 

The thought of him running around the the estate, hiding his little possessions was so endearing, Aziraphale couldn’t help but kiss him as soon as he’d proclaimed his little plan. It was like he’d married a mix of a squirrel and a magpie, really. “You can take whatever you like with you. It’s your home as well. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. Maybe we could find some new little things back in London.”

What an amazing prospect. If they would ever be invited anywhere, Crowley would most likely not stop that little habit of his and Aziraphale wouldn’t mind that at all. It was the little things like these, the quirks that made him so wonderful. 

Aziraphale started to collect their clothes and slipped back into his on the side of the bed, distracting himself with little kisses here and there.

“You want to pack looking like this all the time? If so, I’m not sure we’ll get anything done, really.”

"I'll put on pants. And until I remember how cold it is, I'm not putting on anything else."

Crowley put the bronze shell back onto the shelf and reached for Aziraphale, hugging him up completely, practically pulling him back into bed with him.

After a surprised yelp, Aziraphale was laughing brightly and letting himself fall back with his over eager spouse. 

“You wily tempter. That’s even more distracting! And I don’t see you putting anything on right now. You're just using me as a blanket.”

He chuckled and turned his head to kiss the tip of Crowley’s nose. It would be perfect to continue like this, but if they could pack up now, they would be able to get the carriage that had been called for his journey back to London.

“Are you able to get them on yourself or are you too exhausted from last night’s activities?”

"Oh, I suppose not." Crowley sighed, remaining a moment before he kissed Aziraphale's head and popped up and walked naked over to his wardrobe. He began to look through in mock contemplation. "Which trousers...are...the best. To pack in. Hmm?" He cocked his hip and stared downwards.

Aziraphale answered that with a mock groan of false annoyance before propping himself up to watch that slender figure swaying through the room. Really, hips like these should be forbidden.

“Maybe you got some good ones sitting further down. I would say, you could walk around like this all day, but what would the customers and neighbors say?” He giggled and got up himself, hugging Crowley tightly from behind and taking a look at his husband's wardrobe, with his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “They’re all black.”

"You almost say that like it's a bad thing." Crowley leaned back and rubbed Aziraphale's arm around his pale waist. "No, that one is...a very dark gray, see? And that one might be red." He turned and kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "A very very dark red," he whispered and kissed him again, grinning.

“Ah, yes. A wide spectrum of ‘dark’.” 

Aziraphale chuckled and loosened his embrace. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be close, but they needed to get things done eventually and it wouldn’t happen if they were standing in front of the closet, kissing and teasing. With a heavy, resigned sigh, Aziraphale pulled back, but not without grabbing Crowley’s buttocks with both hands and giving them a good squeeze. There was always room for a last tease.

“Get those delectable things in some wool and start packing, otherwise we won’t make it out to our home today.”

Crowley jumped, recovering by saluting Aziraphale.

"Yes, sir!" He picked a pair of worn wool slacks, shimmying into them, and returned to Aziraphale's side, looking at his room. "Right. Well....?"

It was better to shift things towards the center. He had Aziraphale go through his books and pick any that he might not have or that interested him, ready to leave the rest. Knick knacks went in piles to be go with them or to be abandoned. Aziraphale could also go through Crowley's desk with the forgotten and abandoned pieces of poetry he meant to translate to prettier paper and many broken nibs. The poetry would be safely stored away in Aziraphale’s personal desk, so he could pull it out and enjoy it whenever he wanted and, most importantly, where Crowley couldn’t find them to throw them out in embarrassment or something. 

While Aziraphale was occupied with that, Crowley went and packed his clothes over and over. There was some progress but Azirpahle could feel himself growing nervous and the same must have been the case with Crowley, his indecisiveness growing more and more. 

There had been some life signs on the corridor, which meant that the others were slowly rising and that they were expected to be downstairs at some point. Aziraphale rose from his spot at Crowley’s desk, walking over to embrace him in a similar fashion as before, kissing his cheek.

“Maybe you should take a short break.” Crowley unfolded a shirt the moment he relaxed back into Aziraphale, grateful for the distraction. “Eat something,” Aziraphale continued. “We made good progress and I’m sure you want to join the others a last time….”

Sure, both of them were more than happy to finally live together, but leaving his beloved mother might be a harder task. Aziraphale wanted to make sure that Crowley could bid her farewell properly.

"Excellent plan, Angel," he whispered and threaded their fingers together. 

After shirt and shoes and hair were put in order, Crowley and Aziraphale elected to leave the room for a bit. Crowley had indeed pocketed some trinkets, and set them around as they slowly made their way through the house to join the family. 

Beatrice didn't even pretend to straighten out her hair, but she was amongst good company with the rest of them, their hangovers of differing extremes. Lillian was bright and happy as she came to greet them, standing up to hug Aziraphale first, patting his cheeks, asking how he was fairing for the morning. 

Then she doted on her Little Crow for a bit. She seemed to understand something about them, an unspoken agreement and admission, as she kissed Crowley's cheek and whispered something to him before they both laughed, the sound surprised and watery from Crowley.

The Starbrights welcomed Aziraphale and Crowley to sit and dine with them at their leisure. It was strange but so very freeing to see everyone sitting together, happy for a change. After everything that had happened over the last months, especially Hastur's 'escape', it was a miracle that everything had turned out this way.

The breakfast was rejuvenating and it was fun to joke around with Beatrice. Aziraphale let some stories slip of when Gabriel had been younger, since this was essentially his sister-in-law now and it was only right to give her more material to drive his brother up the wall. Lovingly. As the breakfast approached it's end, they went up, packing the rest. Aziraphale leaned closer while they were on their way, too curious to wait before they were back in the room again.

"You don't have to tell me, love, but I have to ask. What did your mother say?"

Crowley blushed and found Aziraphale's hand and kissed his knuckles twice before he found his voice.

"That we are blessed to go make a home for ourselves, but we always have one here to return to." He leaned blindly against Aziraphale for a moment, basking in his natural warmth. "And she's sure that if that painted fan she likes ends up in my collection, she'll travel all the way to London to retrieve it and box my ears in."Crowley laughed and hugged Aziraphale, the two of them returning up to his room. "I've half a mind to pack it just so she  _ will _ come visit. But my poor ears...."

Bless that wonderful woman and her heart. Aziraphale couldn't be happier to have such a mother-in-law. Getting her blessing was something not only important for Crowley, but for him as well. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Crowley’s ear, chuckling.

"Oh no, not the ears! Maybe we can find something to distract her."

Aziraphale enjoyed holding his husband close for some moments before spurring him on to pack again. Now, with Lillian's, permission as to say, it worked a little better and lighter.

So the moment came where it was finally done, the carriage arriving any minute. Aziraphale had insisted that Crowley wore his heavier coat already, since the journey would take some hours. He turned around, taking in the room. He remembered his first time here, with Crowley sick and feverish and everything so uncertain. It felt like a different lifetime now. Aziraphale searched blindly for the other’s hand, squeezing it softly.

"I think it's time..."

It burned something strange in Crowley's throat as he took Aziraphale's hand tightly in his own. 

The whittled down trunks were loaded up, Shadwell tossing up one light bag and dusting his hands like he had shifted half the house for them, Sam and Crowley and Aziraphale loading the rest.

"Time," Crowley whispered, standing outside and looking up at the house. He could drag out more goodbyes, more little conversations even on into the twilight, but then it would be too late and they'd have to leave tomorrow. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

"You'll keep an eye on him. Keep him in order and all," Shadwell was saying nearby, not looking directly at the two so as not to suddenly get something in his eye, as it were.

Aziraphale had to swallow around a lump in his throat as well. Yes, they had dreamed about this but it still was hard to leave everything you knew behind, starting out somewhere else.

But they would figure this out together. Crowley would not be alone in this.

"I will. No more passing out anywhere cold."

He should have respected Shadwell's attempts to not get too involved, but Aziraphale couldn't help it and laid a hand on the old chap's shoulder.

"Thank you for everything Mr. Shadwell and my warmest greetings to Mrs. Tracy."

“Oh, Madam Tracy,” Crowley said with a little worried pout. “Shadwell, tell her goodbye from me too?”

“Aye, aye,” Shadwell answered roughly.

Oh damn him, Aziraphale could feel his own eyes prickling at the corner. He let go of Mr. Shadwell and got to the carriage, to give Crowley and his valet more room to express their farewells, if they wanted.

"Aye, he's a keeper. Like I said." Shadwell and Crowley embraced quickly, then stepped apart. "Now, stick a pin in that, laddie. You save that for the road when you're bored and need a cry to keep yourself busy."

"Right, save it for the road," Crowley answered and rolled his eyes. "I'll miss you, you damn fool."

"A mouth like that gone out of the house will be a godsend. You see Hastur....?"

"Kick his teeth in, yes, right. Keep them safe, Shadwell," said Crowley, referring to his parents.

Shadwell stepped back and snapped a sharp salute, which Crowley returned with less flair and laughed as he climbed in to join Aziraphale in the sanctuary of their carriage, soon down the road with the Starbright estate shrinking behind them. Crowley did not look back. He held Aziraphale's hands and determinedly only looked forward with him.

**-**

To give Crowley some time for his surely conflicted thoughts, Aziraphale remained silent for some time. He side-eyed his husband from time to time to check his face and the feelings mirrored on it. He'd been getting quite good at assessing what his mood was, even with the sunglasses. His thumb brushed over Crowley's fingers the whole time.

But when he couldn't bear it anymore, Aziraphale tried to lighten the mood a little with an anecdote from a week ago, when he had foolishly left one of his first editions on a shelf and a very persistent customer tried to buy it.

"... and then I managed to sneakily topple over a stack of books nearby, making it look like it had happened all on itself. It only needed a little hint as to say that I had been warned about strange occurrences in the shop, and the gentleman had better things to do, suddenly. "

He had been really proud about this development. It didn’t bother him that people might think his shop could be haunted. 

Aziraphale finally looked straight at Crowley, a soft smile on his face.

"You're feeling better, love?”

Crowley hummed, twitching slightly out of his reverie and smiling at Aziraphale.

"Yes. Much," Crowley answered and shifted even more to take Aziraphale in. "Do you need help with little hauntings around the shop? I should think we should get a pet. Something ridiculous to slither around and give it a proper occult feeling?" 

“And what kind of pet do you have in mind? Mind that we don’t have any valet or maid yet. I didn’t want to hire someone without your input on it and, quite frankly, I didn’t want anyone fussing around me for the time being. No one except you, of course.”

With a little bump of the carriage to inspire his movement, Aziraphale put one arm around Crowley, pressing him closer. He couldn’t wait to show him their little nest, as to say. It was a mix of happiness and nervous anticipation. What if Crowley disliked something? Or, even worse, what if he grew tired of Aziraphale as soon as he had to spend all of his time together? Aziraphale could still sink deep into a book, not able to communicate much with the world around him. He was stuffy sometimes and needed his routines and...what if that was off putting?

And where the hell did these thoughts come from?

“Maybe, I could run us a bath when we’re there. It’ll warm us up.”

**-**

Indeed, when they were there, a bath sounded exactly what they needed. It was late and colder for it. Crowley was fussing with one of the heavier trunks and finally pulled it loose, nearly crashing to the ground with it. He dusted his hands, smiling at the more robust neighborhood around then under the dark steel-grey sky.

"A bath would do wonders. I don't think I can feel my toes, even."

Crowley hefted himself up and waddled after Aziraphale into their new home. It took him two attempts to get the key in, but Azirphale managed it eventually. They were heading in through the shop front. Since it was dark, the newly painted letters on top of the huge window were only illuminated by the street lamps. It showed the initials A.Z Fell from where they were standing. He would show that off the next morning. They had other priorities now.

The driver for their family carriage helped with the trunks while Aziraphale showed the inside of his shop to his husband. It was quite a spacious space, full of shelves, a reading nook and a corner where Aziraphale had put his work desk. A huge skylight illuminated the center, the four cardinal directions engraved up there, with the flat technically tucked around the side of it to let the natural light in. Of course, right now, it was all black, but it would look very ethereal with sunlight.

Aziraphale paid for their ride and closed the door, locking up and turning around with a nervous smile.

“Welcome home. It’s freezing down here.” Aziraphale scrubbed his shoulders and giggled. “We should get up to the flat and start a fire. I need to boil some water anyways. Meanwhile, you can warm up in bed.” He came closer, taking both of Crowley’s hands and pressing Crowley’s knuckles against his lips. “A tour of the shop can wait until tomorrow...this way please.”

He took Crowley further into the shop, where a small staircase was winding up to the living space. When they were standing in front of the door, Aziraphale turned around yet again, grinning a little sheepishly.

“I think there’s a tradition to carry your beloved over the threshold.”

Crowley giggled and set down the little case he didn't let go of. He rubbed his cold hands together again. 

"Ah, yes. Yes. Now...how should I do this, hmm?" He leaned in closer to pick up Aziraphale.

Aziraphale blinked in confusion before he tried to stifle a laugh, with not that much success.

"I appreciate your effort, but I fear that I'm just too heavy for this. Would you allow me...?"

"You? I...." Crowley blushed and dragged his fingers down his braid. "I mean, yeah. Yes. Of course."

He stepped closer and put his arm around Aziraphale's shoulder, then grinned and immediately kissed his cheek to hide the little blossoming blush that was coming up from his collar. Why he was even embarrassed he couldn't rightly say, just something about the moment seemed very tender and cemented something about them that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Aziraphale beamed, sporting a matching blush to his husband's. He was fumbling with the door for a moment before it opened. Then, finally, he picked up Crowley in his arms, like it was to be done with a bride, not that they were above subverting the usual tropes. He must have looked like a fool, his cheeks hurting from all the grinning, but he couldn't care less. He took a few steps with Crowley in his arms, crossing over to what was their home now.

"Welcome home, darling. To the rest of our lives together, hopefully."

Aziraphale nudged Crowley with his nose, trying to get him to look up. They were standing in the dark and small corridor connecting the living spaces, waiting impatiently for Crowley’s approval.

The moment Crowley could put his feet down - and it was a moment really before that could possibly happen, feeling so weightless and loved - he rushed Aziraphale and pinned him against the dark wall, their mouths colliding soon after. It was a stamp to the wall, the first of many, and though Aziraphale had been living here for some time, it was a means to announce that it was finally and really there's, together, and they were going to fill the place with their love. It might even be nauseating, except Crowley needed nauseating. He needed overabundance. He needed reassurances in spades.

"Marry me," he whispered with a clever little smile against Aziraphale, holding him too close against the wallpaper and decorative wood paneling.

Any surprised sound had no chance to escape Aziraphale when his lips were sealed with his husband's. Crowley moved so fast, he had no other chance than to grab the sides of his coat and melt against him, the hard wall entirely forgotten.

And here Aziraphale had thought that he would tuck his freezing little Crow under the blankets of their bed until he fired everything up, making it warm and cozy. 

This was warmer than any hearth fire.

"Always, again and again," Aziraphale answered, his arms coming up to pull his face close again.

They would forget the items downstairs in the shop, at least for a bit. Promises of weddings, of anniversaries, of love peppered the air as Crowley crowded Aziraphale against the wall and, once, back against the door, bracing it with his hand before they fell through it completely. He thought to get rid of his shoes only after they were stumbling back down the hall, and almost removed his coat, except the place had not had it's fire lit for a short time and it was indeed freezing inside the flat. Crowley remained tight against Aziraphale, tucked neatly into his neck, and did his best not to betray how cold he was with a shiver. 

"Are you hungry? It was a long trip. I don't...know the area, I don't know why I'm offering. Sorry. Nerves." Crowley giggled and soon found Aziraphale's mouth again, attacking it just as they spilled out of the dark foyer.

If this wasn’t the perfect way to celebrate their home together, then nothing would be. However, despite his efforts, Crowley’s shiver was noted. It was the first sign of the general giddiness in both of them, but then Aziraphale remembered that he had married quite the cold blooded creature and he stopped them in their tracks to wrap his arms firmly around Crowley.

“The only thing I’m really craving now is you. But are you hungry? I’ve forgotten all about the hearth and you’re freezing.” 

He took hold of Crowley’s checks firmly, looking straight at his husband.

“Don’t even try to deny it, Crowley, I know you well enough to know that. So there’s only one place for you now.” 

And Aziraphale dragged him down the hall to their bedroom. It wasn’t as huge as their rooms back home, but enough to fit a generous bed, vanity and closet without feeling cramped. If there weren’t books lying everywhere as it was.

Aziraphale made sure to tug the gibbering mess of his significant other in bed, promising that he would return when he got the fire going. Finished with his task, he came back to the bed, kicking off his shoes, as well as shedding his coat along the way to crawl right under the same big blanket as Crowley, immediately scooting closer.

“Let’s warm up a little, mhh?”

"Mhh," Crowley answered in the same tone, instantly clinging to him. 

He shivered hard, briefly, almost as though his body was making up for idleness to warm the bed, before he giggled a broken laugh against Aziraphale's chest. He stopped soon after and was making quick work of removing Aziraphale's shirt.

"Skin's warmer anyhow," Crowley answered, and kissed the sparse field of golden hair before him, practically burying his face. He only crawled back up to capture Aziraphale's face, starting where they had left off in the hallway.

This was so typically Crowley, stubbornly ignoring his own state and pressing on, even though he was a shivering mess. But he was Aziraphale’s shivering mess and even though he had been taken by surprise a little with all these very urgent affections, he yielded into them without any second thoughts.

The warmth of the freshly lit fire was crawling slowly over them but it wouldn't be enough to warm Crowley up. Well, as he had said it, skin was warmer. So, Aziraphale found his way under Crowley’s shirt, roaming his back and rubbing him slowly to heat him up a little. Aziraphale already felt warm and cozy just from their little warm up by the door. He got rid of Crowley’s shirt shortly after, pressing their bare chests together so he could share his warmth more. It started to become a fire anyways.

Crowley's twitching, roaming madness settled and soon it was just slow, languid kissing or gentle, brushing touches. He hummed, resting his cheek on Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"This is nice," Crowley said, feeling lame as soon as the words were out, and winced for the fact of it. "Just. It's nice to relax. It's nice being in bed here...after the ride. I mean, with you too, obviously. Mmmmnnn." He rubbed his forehead against Aziraphale's shoulder and laughed. "This? Is very nice, Angel. Thank you."

"I have to thank you. For forgiving me back then. For talking to me at the ball. For trying to kiss me at our first meeting."

Aziraphale smiled with a deep fondness filling up his soul, while holding the man he loved in his arms,for good.

Thinking back on their first encounter and taking in what Crowley had just said, something hit Aziraphale and he started shaking, without a sound first, before bursting into giggles that brought tears to his eyes.

"You remember what you said to me back then? About  _ nice _ ? See, you got a nice flat in London with your nice husband, in the end." Aziraphale wiped at his eyes with one hand, still shaking a little. "And I was worried about being too  _ nice _ for your taste."

"Shut it," he answered quickly, with no obvious heat or anger in it. Embarrassment, yes. "Maybe I was looking for 'nice' in the wrong places. I've it on good authority, though, that you can be just enough of a bastard to be worth liking." Crowley turned and gently bit Aziraphale's shoulder. "Haunted bookshop. Really? And scheming. And making arrangements to make our families like each other? I take back every nice thing I said."

Aziraphale laughed heartily now, pulling Crowley closer and stifling himself in the tousled red hair.

"I would like to gainsay on that matter but I fear it's true. So maybe you've got more than expected then." Aziraphale while taking Crowley's left hand and placing it on his cheek, pressing in to it. "I surely did. More than I could have ever dreamed of. I love you Crowley James…." Aziraphale had to pause, chuckling a little more before continuing. "Starbright. Our way here was rocky and uneven, but I would walk it a thousand times again if it would lead to this moment..."

Predictably, Crowley groaned at his full name, but he couldn't stay mad or upset or even really grumpy about it.

"I must agree, Mr. Aziraphale Zachary Fell. Hmm. Now. Come here, because I think I'll catch my death of cold if you don't seal my happy soul back into my body, yes?"

"Oh, we can't have that happen now."

Aziraphale leaned in, smiling when their lips pressed against each other and still so when tongues started to coil at a leisurely pace. The room had a nice temperature by now, so there shouldn't be any real threat to Crowley's well-being. 

One leg was hooked over Crowley's in search for more closeness, for that feeling of being one. The pleasant heat of the hearth was a mirror for the one Aziraphale could feel inside himself. Not that all consuming fire that swallowed everything in its wake but a steady source of heat, almost too hot but only  _ almost _ .

Hands found their ways into red locks, kneading the scalp, doing everything to comfort. The overall feeling was similar to last night's, with no rush, no panic. Just them in this together.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale breathed against the well-kissed lips when he managed to pull back for a deep breath. "I want this for the rest of our lives. I want you to stay with me forever."

"Do you know something?" Crowley whispered, nudging his nose into Aziraphale's neck, never wandering very far from him. "I do too. And I will. I promise."

Aziraphale did not answer. He was only smiling and planting a kiss on Crowley's hair.

What could he say? The feeling in his chest was simple, and yet he could not manage to press it into words to describe it in more detail. It was just there, all consuming and warm and right.

Aziraphale’s fingers played with the hair at the back of Crowley’s neck when he spoke again.

“Do you feel warmer now or should I still prepare that bath?”

Crowley shook his head and hid himself against Aziraphale. Yes. Of course. A bath would be sinfully good right now, something to soak in and all, even if it was a pain to heat up the water. But the very idea of letting him go gripped him in a dread that he had to laugh at. 

Still. Clingy was one thing, and stitched to Aziraphale's side another. Perhaps it was just nerves of being here. Of reality being such a tenuous thing as to pop and he'd wake up in a cold sweat back home for no discernible reason.

"I think a bath would be good," Crowley whispered at last and loosened his grip. He pressed his fingers, one at a time, against Aziraphale's chest, counting them out.  _ I. Love. You. For. Ever. _ There. A silly gesture, an unmagical and unspoken spell, but sealed the deal for him.

“You stay here in your warm cocoon and I’ll do my best to speed this up,” Aziraphale assured, pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips before peeling out of their shared bed. He didn’t bother to put the shirt back on. This was his home, their home, and he could walk around in all stages of undress he liked. But the other rooms were quite chilly, so he threw on a dark blue robe to cover his shoulders at least.

If he could will the water to boil faster, he would have done it while staring at the flames underneath. It took its time and he made sure to sneak back to Crowley to steal more affectionate touches and kisses along the wait until, finally, the water was hot enough, the tub filled and a scent of lavender and lemons was floating through the air. 

Aziraphale dragged Crowley out of bed and into the bathroom, where the tub was steaming and a second dark robe was lying on a little stool, neatly folded and on top of two fine linen cloths. Aziraphale hugged Crowley from behind again and tugged cheekily on his waistband.

“We need to get those off, so we can enjoy ourselves boiling like a stew.”

Crowley was quiet and easily moved like this, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from the cramped little tub. Better than those showers, the bucket mechanism to dump on your head. He was grateful Aziraphale was of the opinion that baths were good and should include one in his flat. 

He nodded, stepping back until he was tight against Aziraphale again, and held Aziraphale's forearms as permission to undo his trousers. He was drawn not only to the natural warmth and the softness of skin and robes, but the general comfort of his husband every step of the way. And Crowley had gotten a little sleepy in the bed waiting for the bath, so he was in need of more affection, it seemed.

Swiftly as ever, the trousers were undone, crumpling on the floor so Crowley could easily step out of them. Aziraphale made quick work of his own, taking both items, folding them briefly and storing them away before shrugging out of his robe as well.

It was a strange feeling, standing there naked together so carelessly without locked doors or anything. Aziraphale kissed a bony shoulder and stepped into the tub first, hissing at the first contact. It was on the edge of being too hot, but he got used to it. Felt like the perfect temperature for his cold blooded husband.

When he had managed to sit, he took hold of Crowley’s arm, tugging him closer to join him. The space was limited, so the only option was to lean against Aziraphale. He was pretty sure none of them minded that.

"Get in here already. I imagine that it's a similar experience as sitting in a geyser."

Crowley hissed as he stepped into the hot water, slipping down until he was directly against Aziraphale and quickly wrapped Aziraphale's arms around him. The heat was  _ exquisite. _ He couldn't be happier, surely, and possibly said so out loud.

New things could be discovered every day and Aziraphale had just found a new favorite. This was heavenly, really. He hummed his appreciation as well, pressing a kiss to Crowley's temple and leaning back against the tub.

"This was worth every pence," Aziraphale sighed, squeezing the body, leaning against Crowley a little more. He let that heat seep in, feeling every muscle relaxing and enjoying this for quite a while.

Eventually, his hands started moving on their own accord, starting to brush the tips of his fingers lightly over one upper arm, up to the chest where he started to go up and down the sternum, gently caressing Crowley’s form.

Crowley was a soup contained in skin and bones on Aziraphale's body. He closed his eyes and let his mind swim about while Aziraphale pet across his chest. He even considered lifting his hand to pet Aziraphale, but he might misjudge in this state and smack him, so Crowley simply held onto the edge of the tub and stayed where Aziraphale had put him.

Since there was no complaint, Aziraphale kept up his ministrations at that slow pace. He brushed Crowley’s hair to one side, dedicating his attention every strand until the nape of the neck was exposed, a nice little space where Aziraphale could place soft kisses. He ventured to the other side of the neck as well, brushing his lips simply against the delicate skin behind the ear. His own breath was still even and relaxed. 

Aziraphale may have kept his hands and caresses in check, though he was not entirely sure how he had managed. The day had been long and Crowley had to leave the place he’d grown up, and despite all the not so pleasant things that may or may not have happened, there had still been beauty and love. It was difficult. It had to be difficult. It forged them in its trials and tribulations. 

But, as Crowley soaked before him, Aziraphale had this need tugging at his nerves, demanding all the touches. Maybe it was to make sure that this was real now, that they finally reached that end of the tunnel together and it wouldn’t disappear as soon as he blinked.

“You’re still with me, my love?”

"Mm." Crowley finally pulled his hand up and covered Aziraphale's, gently pinning it tight to his chest. "Mmhmm. Still here."

He let his head fall to the side far enough that it was an obvious invite for Aziraphale to kiss him there, right where the skin was taught, showing off a pulse point. This softness was somehow too much and not enough and he yearned for every drop that Aziraphale was giving him, even in his quiet, comfortable state. Couldn't be helped. The tension was boiled out of him as soon as he was in the bathwater, which was cooling but, thankfully, nowhere near cold yet.

Aziraphale obliged and made his way to the desired destination with more soft kisses in between, which were gaining a little more pressure with every press. Hitting that pulse point, he started to put his tongue to use, as well as giving the skin a bit of nibbling. He would stop if it was demanded. Still, it didn't go unnoticed from his body and he felt a little interest stirring. 

It wasn't obvious right away, at the small of his back. Crowley just hummed and laced their fingers, even at this backwards angle. He did moan at the loving pressure and rolled his back up and then back down to get more comfortable, sloshing the water around. 

"Y'know. That feels so good," Crowley muttered and smiled. "You've done so much for me. Do you...want? Anything?"

Aziraphale could not make himself respond straight away. Instead, he remained in the safety against Crowley’s neck, composing himself.

“I want everything I can get from you the whole time, to be frank,” Aziraphale answered, muffled while sliding his nose up the long neck and back to the place behind the ear. “I’m just so happy to finally be here with you, it’s impossible to keep my hands off. I could do this all night, but if you need some rest, please tell me. We have forever now.”

"Angel," Crowley said, sounding like he was admonishing him, even wrinkling his eyebrows a little, but he was smiling. "Tell me the first desire. On your mind. Right now, or I'll get out of this tub and walk around our very cold flat dripping naked until you catch me. Hmm?"

Aziraphale tightened his grip immediately, but sighed in defeat. He was a hopeless case, really.

"I want to keep on touching you and...want to be touched in return."

They had done so many things until now and he had said quite his fair share of lewd little things, but this brought a blush to his cheeks. He was so far gone for this man, almost pathetic.

"You do?" Crowley laughed and turned over as carefully as he could, going slow so water didn't spill out of the tub.

He did get on his knees and put his hands flat on Aziraphale's chest, immediately leaning in and kissing him, as he was a little lightheaded from the heat and laying down against his husband.

"What," Crowley whispered against Aziraphale's lips, " _ exactly _ do you want touched? Your...shoulder?" He did touch that, and walked his fingers over to his cheek. "Your earlobe?" he asked, and gave it a tug.

Aziraphale’s eyes had fallen shut while kissing and he didn't bother to open them again as Crowley made his suggestions. Aziraphale chuckled and took the hand on his ear by the wrist, guiding it over to his mouth to place the fingertips on his lips.

"Here would be nice," he whispered and dragged the hand further down and to the side of his neck. The ticklish sensation made him shiver, causing goosebumps in the wake of the touch.

He opened his eyes half way again, looking at Crowley when he dragged the hand over his chest, grazing a nipple slightly before dragging it down over the sternum, his belly and then dipping their joined hands into the water to press them softly against his groin.

Crowley's breathing quickened as Aziraphale guided his hand until it was exactly where he imagined, and he closed his hands around Aziraphale's prick, leaning in to kiss him while he felt down the shaft. Got the lips. Got the cock. He could follow directions quite well and smiled into the kiss.

"Have I mentioned I love you?" Crowley whispered.

With a sigh of relief, Aziraphale melted into the kiss, just enjoying being touched exactly as he requested.

"A few times. Maybe you should mention it more, so I'm reminded of it."

Aziraphale’s own hands couldn't stay still for too long, not with Crowley kneeling so prettily before him. They were planted on his sides, sliding down over the ribs and to the back, smoothing over Crowley's nice little rump and cupping his cheeks. He just started kneading them absently.

Was it possible to have full on sex in the tub? Maybe not, as it was too cramped and preparations would be inconvenient. But could they perhaps just get off slowly or take this to bed later? They had all night, after all.

Proof more that it might not be the smartest idea when Crowley jutted his hips forward and the water sloshed over the sides. They'd need a towel to clean it up before it warped the floor, but he decided he very much didn't care at the moment. Instead, Crowley settled back into Aziraphale's hand and looked down into the dark of the water, shadowed by the dark interior of the tub, and squinted with a little concentrated scowl as he breathed deeply and squeezed his way up and down Aziraphale, like it was a neat little puzzle he was trying to figure out. Oh, he knew what he was doing, but the dizzying effect of being so delicate and soft and sleepy kept his head almost floating just above his skull, where he was almost detached from himself. He wanted to  _ please. _ He just wasn't sure if he was pleasing  _ correctly. _ And it made him laugh in frustration before he kissed Aziraphale again.

The hands stayed on his husband's cute backside but the kneading stopped when Aziraphale let himself be kissed. His head was lulling back after, lips still parted and eyes closed. His breathing was deeper, inhaling on every stroke up. It didn’t go unnoticed that Crowley was stewing over something again, Aziraphale had developed his own sense for that over time, so he made the effort of reassuring the other in his hard work.

“It feels good, very good. Just don’t think too much love, just do what you want with me here.” Aziraphale sighed, his own head dizzy from the warmth and slow build of lust under his skin. “Touch where you want, darling.”

"I am," Crowley whispered, watching him intently. "Exactly what I want to do."

Not  _ exactly, _ but that required getting out of the bath and drying off and hopping into bed to continue with what he  _ wanted _ to do. Tub was too cramped for him to lean back and get his head under the water and see how long he could hold his breath. But, his thumb slipped over the glans, then up over the slit and pressed while he trailed open-mouth kisses across Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale's breath hitched and his head fell back for good. A moan slipped out of his parted lips, his hips bucking up into Crowley's hand. Crowley really had picked up a lot over their time together, and Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure if he should be so proud of that fact. Well, decency be damned. But the limited space of the tub  _ was  _ a nuisance, as nice as the warmth of the water was. Aziraphale wasn't in military service or university anymore. They had their own home where they could do this anywhere.

"Crowley..." his voice was cracking a little, his throat dry. He swallowed and tried again. "Darling, maybe we should relocate."

Crowley's eyes opened slowly, as though waking, and he sat back enough to give Aziraphale room to breathe.

"Relocate?" He glanced around, smoothing his hands out on Aziraphale's chest. "To...the bedroom? Perhaps?"

"Yes, that was my intention. If you're amenable to that." 

He took Crowley's hands in his and kissed the knuckles. The water was cooling off anyways, but maybe Crowley would like to spend some more time in it and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

Five more minutes and the water would start being uncomfortable, and his knees were starting to ache on the outside from the way he was kneeling, pressed too tight against the sides of the tub. Crowley grinned and lazily nuzzled Aziraphale's damp hairline when he went in to kiss Crowley's knuckles.

"Yes. I am definitely amenable. Where's your towels, love?"

Aziraphale stood up - which presented a different opportunity - and got out of the tub to fetch some of the towels he had arranged earlier. He tried to ignore his state and folded one out, waiting for Crowley to get out.

"Come here, you should get dry first. I, uh, bought you a robe." 

Aziraphale picked the item up and unfolded it. It was fine cotton or linen, black and topped off with silk bands, the color of a nice red wine. It looked like a similar cut to the one that Aziraphale had worn into the room and just the sight of it, something that matched? He grinned too hard, drinking in the beautiful visage of a dripping wet Aziraphale. 

"I thought it was only appropriate to get you one as well. I hope you'll like it. Now hurry out so I can rub you dry."

"Of course. Of course."

Crowley stretched up and reached for him, his fingers wriggling for the robe.

They would need to mop the floor.

"Ah, ah, ah, get dry first," Aziraphale tutted and wrapped the tall figure in the towel he was holding, rubbing him dry. Just when he was satisfied with the the result he took the robe and helped Crowley slip into it. It fit perfectly.

Aziraphale dried himself off quickly and did the same with his robe before taking Crowley by the hand and leading him back to the bedroom. The flooded floor was a problem for tomorrow.

On their way to the bed, Aziraphale continued kissing Crowley, walking backwards into the bedroom and dragging him in by the lapels of the robe until his legs hit the mattress. Aziraphale lowered down to sit on it and scooted back, causing the robe to slide off one shoulder and parting in his lap, almost revealing what was poorly covered underneath.

"I think we left off where you were allowed to do as you please."

Like two magnets, Aziraphale pulled Crowley up onto the bed with nothing more than that invite and the slip of bare skin. He went directly to Aziraphale's lap and pressed him down to the bedding, already skating his hand under the robe, gripping his bicep, then his rib, coupled with soft breathy sounds wherever his mouth left grazing marks on Aziraphale's skin, like he was planning to feast on him. Half true, as his kisses were wandering down Aziraphale's stomach and continued to push the soft robe out of his way.

To see more, Aziraphale brushed some damp strands out of Crowley’s face, trying to tuck them behind his ear.

Happy little sighs left his mouth, watching his husband work his way down and the sensation of his kisses along the skin. The bedroom was warm and cozy now, so any concern about the cold could be forgotten which left more room for enjoying this. The hand lingered on Crowley's head while Aziraphale sank into the mattress and let his legs fall open to grant room to more. Except going right for the desired target, while tempting, seemed to be...too fast.

Crowley shifted himself and decided to savor the inside of Aziraphale's thigh, nipping, sucking, licking a long stripe only to skip over to the other one while he kneaded his hands closer and closer to Aziraphale's beautifully plump cheeks.

Moans quickly replaced the sighs, Aziraphale’s chest heaving when the sensitive skin was showered with affection. One or two times, his husband's name slipped in and Aziraphale lifted his head to see what marvelous things Crowley was going to do between his legs.

Further attention had to be paid to Aziraphale's knees before Crowley even dared start to inch his way back upwards, taking an agonizing slow journey up towards Aziraphale's groin, all the while kneading his flesh slowly. He finally paused and simply blew across Aziraphale's erection, then kissed his stomach instead.

That was torture. Sweet, sweet torture. Aziraphale started to shake a little and whined when the air was teasing him. He tried to shoot Crowley a glare, but it didn’t really translate with how flushed he was and all the panting.

“You’re a terrible tease,” Aziraphale managed before he groaned and let his head fall back on the mattress. Crowley really had picked up quite a few things along the way. Well, Aziraphale was the only one to blame for that.

"I'm sorry," Crowley answered with a grin that proved he was anything but. 

He wondered, idly, if he could continue touching and kissing like this until Aziraphale was a leaking mess. Or, better yet, if Aziraphale might even finish without being touched. The thought was exciting and an experiment to be tested, but they had travelled far enough and Crowley was  _ hungry,  _ so he inched backwards on the bedding and squeezed Aziraphale's thighs once more before he simply swallowed his cock down in one swift, easy, greedy gulp.

Now the neighbors could get a taste for what their nights would sound like in the future. 

Aziraphale’s arms shot up to grab the bedding beside his head, his back arching and a blasphemous shout of something that sounded something like "Jesuschristohmygod!"

The sounds after that were not that coherent anymore, only loud moans and ragged breathing. One trembling hand came down to grab some hair, anchoring himself.

"Oh God, Crowley..."

Crowley gagged himself and pulled up quickly, covering his mouth, and laughed silently into his palm. That was a first. He recovered quickly enough, but Aziraphale's exclamation was so... _ much. _ God, he loved Aziraphale with all his wretched heart.

Another, slower, more deliberate bob before Crowley was back up to the tip, smearing Aziraphale's head with sloppy kisses and a tongue eager to please.

What had been more punched out noises before became long and breathy. Aziraphale even managed to watch Crowley working on him and it made him twitch, a little bead of precum forming that was licked up right away.

"Please. Crowley, please keep on... _ ah _ , keep on doing whatever you have in mind. S-so good!"

Crowley answered with a throaty moan at the light praise. He curled his hand around Aziraphale to help guide himself down Aziraphale’s cock, swallowing when he was directly at the base. He was kneeling on the bed, in the robe, in supplication to his husband. But what he was asking for was simply pleasure, begging Aziraphale to feel  _ good. _ He moaned again, now noting how it might hum and vibrate around Aziraphale securely in his mouth, once again ready to try and swallow for him, take him completely.

The vibrations jolted through Aziraphale like a lightning strike making his back arch even more and leaving him whimper in pure pleasure. The hot knot in his abdomen was unraveling faster and faster, his ties started to curl.

"C-close," was what he could manage. Crowley could find other ways to end this now than swallowing out of pure courtesy, or more likely stubbornness.

He should give it another chance, but Crowley pulled off and continued using his hand instead, smiling and aiming Aziraphale’s cock up towards Crowley’s face. He was left red-lipped, a line of saliva there to show the line Aziraphale's stream could travel, and his mouth slightly parted yet as he regained his breath.

Aziraphale came.

Very sudden and surprising for himself, so much that he wasn't even that vocal while doing it. Just the sight and prospect of how this could end was enough and he managed to keep his eyes open to see, how he painted that gorgeous face, the red lips with every hot spurt.

When he was thoroughly spent, his head hit the mattress, with a strained "Oh fuck" whispered in the air.

Crowley just managed to close his eyes and felt oddly serene to accept Aziraphale's seed all over his face. He laughed weakly, only because he still hadn't caught his breath, and when the last twitch and jolt went through him, Crowley rested his messy cheek on Aziraphale's thigh.

"That so, my darling?" Crowley whispered, chuckling more. "I must agree, actually."

Then he wiped off some of his face and crawled up, hovering over Aziraphale's chest. "Where is your oil?" he asked calmly.

Aziraphale was just about to catch his breath again, when the question made him hold it in his chest.

"The nightstand," Aziraphale answered, nudging his head in the direction. He was still feeling tingly and dizzy, barely registering what Crowley was asking, let alone doing. "If you...if you could’ve just... _ seen _ yourself. If it would be humanly possible…. Oh, love, I would have been straight up at attention right away again…."

"Relax," Crowley muttered, licking his lips and making a sour face before he wiped again and laughed. "I promise. Let me take care of things and catch your breath."

Crowley slipped over towards the nightstand and opened it, rummaging around idly, poking the few items hidden in there. He grinned and plucked the oil out, rubbing it between his hands as he came back over to settle and kneel between Aziraphale's legs. 

"You should see  _ yourself _ , actually," Crowley said and grinned with affection. "Spread out.  _ You _ , my love, are a vision. I like this bedding. It's very soft.."

"I have it on good authority that you like 'soft.'" Aziraphale chuckled. He couldn't help but blush at the praise and what would come next. "What uh…. What are you up to?"

"Warming the bottle," Crowley answered with a smile. 

He leaned back over Aziraphale again and kissed him slowly, giving Aziraphale a chance to taste himself, not fully cleaned off at all.

Full of cheeky secrets today, wasn't he?

Aziraphale moaned softly into the kiss, his arms wrapped around his husband's shoulders. It was quite a salacious thing to taste himself there and he loved it. He swiped his tongue over the red lips, trying to help clean a little while waiting.

Crowley licked once into Aziraphale's mouth before he pulled back and sat between his legs again. It was enough time to get his breathing in order, and Aziraphale had been so good at teasing out every tiny pleasurable thing out of Crowley. A task master with his thumbs and lips. It was only fair that he should break in their marriage bed - really, truly theirs, finally,  _ finally _ \- with something...more.

Crowley finally uncorked the bottle and dabbed oil onto his fingertips, rubbing them together, smiling serenely over the shiny digits, and then added a little more oil for good measure. He even licked his lips before he reached and, with deft fingers that had massaged and mapped out this form so well he might be able to register himself a professional cartographer of the creation that was Aziraphale, he pressed two fingers against that ring of muscle and entered him slowly.

Aziraphale may have hoped for this to happen, but there had been other opportunities as well and it still took Aziraphale by surprise when he was breached. His eyes had gone wide, mouth forming a silent “o” while he tensed up at the first contact. It didn't last long though, the former orgasm had turned his muscles into jelly mostly, so he could relax again quite easily. His nerves were still alight from before and started to fire up right again. Would he survive this? If not, well, there was hardly any better way to go.

"Ah, what...what demon has possessed you today?" Aziraphale breathed out, closing his eyes to concentrate on the delicious stretch, the feeling of being filled. "I'm - mhhh - I'm not complaining."

"Good. Because if you protested enough, I would certainly relent," Crowley answered, kissing the knee he had hooked around one of his arms, pressed in against his chest. "You're so warm."

It was a strange realization, but really Aziraphale felt like he was burning around Crowley's fingers, which he pressed in slowly and curled upwards. Maybe Aziraphale was spent, but it did not mean his nerves weren't responding so eloquently.

Aziraphale's body jolted, a throaty moan the only sound he was able to make right now. He had tried to push his own limits once or twice, but not with that much effect when you only had your own hands to work with. This was a precious kind of torment.

He was burning up from the inside out with Crowley pressing against his prostate. How he could still be so responsive was a mystery to Aziraphale, but he wanted to enjoy it. It was a strange mix of pleasure and straining and he was sure that Crowley would stop if he said so. But Aziraphale would not tap out. Not with the prospect of being fucked through this overstimulation. And this time, without anyone who could bolt in and ruin everything. 

Aziraphale was twitching but kept pressing down against Crowley's long fingers, rolling his hips for more friction and holding on to the sheets with a white knuckled grip. 

That Aziraphale was only able to moan instead of form any coherent words made Crowley feel warm and...weirdly safe. His husband was wonderfully vulnerable like this, unabashed, and Crowley felt such fondness for him, it threatened to crack his chest open. 

"You're so good. Look at you. Two fingers and you're practically undone," Crowley purred, using his own words to fill in the spaces, since Aziraphale had said he enjoyed it and he must do everything he can to have Aziraphale enjoy this. "You always threaten me to see stars. I think I should return the favor, hmm? But if your soul escapes, I'll demand we return it immediately, because I cannot have you perishing on me."

He chuckled and gently bit Aziraphale's knee, working his fingers apart, the wet, squelching sound of fingers and oil not at all off-putting under the music of Aziraphale's cries. He even dared, after a moment of massaging and working him open, to tease in a third finger.

Aziraphale was naught but a withering mess, all burning up, even though his body was not yet ready again to react properly. His cock twitched pathetically, well-spent, aching all the same. He tossed his head around, trying to release some of the tension inside through it. Aziraphale managed to take a look up at his husband, looking so sure of himself while making Aziraphale come undone.

It was so nice to not be in control, just being at that wonderful creature's mercy. Aziraphale himself must have been a wreck with his lust-glazed eyes, hooded from pleasure, cheeks scarlet and burning. His hair was a disheveled mess, damp from sweat and his whole body was twitching.

Once more, Crowley was reminded that the bath had been nice to warm up, but now so much for cleaning themselves up. He'd have to ask where they kept the washcloths later.

Finally relenting, at least for a moment, Crowley pulled his hands free and wiped his fingers on his robe, wincing after the fact. He'd scrub them later, as well, when he was idle and needed something to do between looking for work. Then he turned and reached for the bottle again, dribbling more on his palm before he stroked himself. He sat up on his knees to give Aziraphale an easier time to see what he was doing, slowly and deliberately tugging himself, scrubbing his hand over the tip and shuddering before he dragged his hand back down to the base and gripped himself, a reminder in patience.

Aziraphale didn’t register any of the little struggles Crowley had. He was focused on the picture before him, Crowley stroking himself, the robe hanging loosely from his handsome frame while he watched Aziraphale. He couldn’t wait. He was over sensitive and strained but he wanted to be filled up so badly, feeling Crowley pounding in to him, coming-

Aziraphale had not thought this could ever be possible but, well, he could feel himself getting hard again. Slowly, maybe, but he could feel it, a little twitch in anticipation. Oh he was so greedy, but maybe this would teach him a lesson.

“Crowley...” he whispered, letting his legs fall apart even more. One hand came up to his lips, his index finger ghosting over the dry and rosy lips as though to wait for a decision to be made.

“Please. Oh please I need you.”

Crowley rushed back in to kiss him, to help announce his promise that he needed Aziraphale too.

And while he was there, Crowley braced his hand on the pillow, the other gripping himself to help guide him, lining up until he was pressed against Aziraphale, gently threading himself through his fingers into that oiled ring of muscle. Crowley's eyes closed instantly, as though in concentration, their foreheads pressed together as he buried himself in Aziraphale.

It could have been possible that someone might call the night watch. Aziraphale was keening and tried to shut himself up by biting his lower lip hard, already tasting copper. His hands finally found the contact he didn’t know he’d been craving for, clawing at Crowley’s back and digging his blunt nails into his shoulders.

It was like burning alive and he loved it. Crowley didn’t even have to hit that wonderful little spot and Aziraphale was already gone. The sensation of Crowley filling him up completely was almost too much. He was hard, his nerves friend, and he felt  _ marvelous _ .

After some heavy breathing, Aziraphale adjusted to the new sensation, his legs coming up to feebly anchor themselves around the narrow hips.

“Crowley!” It was a high and breathless whisper, a cry of pleasure, a promise. “I love you. Love you. I love you!”

Crowley could have laughed, not at the admission of love, but at his lover's excitement.

"I love you too," he answered sweetly, gently tonguing the dangerously red spot on Aziraphale's lip. "Don't hurt yourself," he said, laughing breathlessly, delighted by the contact, the eagerness, the fullness of this love. He rolled his hips and once more closed his eyes, his mouth withering into a straight line of concentration, swallowing hard at the sensation. He shifted his knees and gripped Aziraphale's legs, rocking him into the bedding with each languid thrust, picking up speed slowly until he was finally pumping into him.

Every possible grasp at coherence was thrown out the metaphorical window. Aziraphale just moaned unabashedly while trying to meet Crowley’s thrusts with his hips. His whole body was flushed now, sweat pooling in different places across his chest, his stomach, anywhere. The sensation was too much. It felt like he was having an orgasm already, every nerve was fired up from the tip of his hair to his little toe. He could feel his whole body rocking with Crowley and he could feel him, the precious slide.

Aziraphale wanted to touch himself, but couldn’t bring his arms to move. Otherwise, his soul may really leave his body and how could he miss a sensation like this. There was already a tiny smear of precum on his belly. Maybe, he didn’t need a hand at all.

Crowley was not going to provide it, as much as he might wish to. He was busy gripping the pillow beside Aziraphale's head, panting over him, and finally forced his eyes back open to look down at him, his pupils blown so wide that those strange eyes were almost dark.

Aziraphale was bright, sweaty, a mess in the sheets, shiny and wet between them that if Crowley rolled his hips down, he would smear his belly as well, leaving a little shiny trail in the wiry hair leading down from his belly button. 

There were no words left in him, but he managed to raise his hand and grab Aziraphale's hand, interlocking their fingers. His ring stood out starkly against their interwoven digits. Then he glanced over and saw the silver band on Aziraphale's other hand and immediately grabbed that one too. He brushed his thumb over Aziraphale's fingers and dropped his chin down, thrusting harder, their skin clapping together, that molten build-up dissolving his thoughts until he felt like a bright drop of metal in a big deep ocean, swirling, impossible, dark, everything. It was confusing and not even really that, just overwhelming, maybe, as Crowley pressed in tightly and shook hard, twitching, and released.

Thank god nobody was at the bedroom door to stop them. They hadn't locked it. They had no need to anymore.

Their joined hands were something grounding, safe, and Aziraphale was happy about this chance to anchor himself, fingers squeezing tightly with every thrust. When he felt that sweet release, getting filled up so thoroughly, Aziraphale tumbled impossibly over the edge as well. It was more intense somehow, his vision whiting out for a sweet moment. This may be what a star looked up close, so blinding. He wasn’t sure if he said anything or if it just were incoherent syllables that tumbled out of him when he came down from his high, slowly opening his eyes.

Aziraphale had always managed to picture their first time together. Over and over, he replayed it, a million times by now. But this? How could he have imagined something perfect like this? Both were just trying to catch their breath and Aziraphale thought that this must be the perfect moment, the eye of the storm.

Crowley stayed over him as long as he could until he slumped and let Aziraphale's legs go so he could drop them where he pleased. Crowley was panting hard, his eyes closed, deliriously touching their cheeks together. 

When he pulled out, Crowley betrayed himself with a little whimper, and rubbed Aziraphale's thigh, moaning again to see him leaking on the robes. Crowley had to close his eyes, flush with unreasonable pleasure at sharing this moment together.

Aziraphale could feel himself clenching around nothing, joining in with a needy little sound himself. He did not mind the leaking. Robes could be washed. He actually liked it, being filled so thoroughly, so hot.

He slung his arms around Crowley, shaking with a weak laugh. What a perfect first night of the rest of their lives together.

"Come here," Aziraphale whispered, pulling him back on his chest. "That was….”

“Mm,” Crowley answered weakly.

“So amazing. I can't find words. I can’t… nothing comes….”

“You did.”

“Nothing comes close to describe it. Darling. You're alright?"

"’Alright,’ he says," Crowley answered quietly, flopping down next to him. He leaned in and kissed Aziraphale's nose. "Yes, angel. So much. ...Better than I expected," he admitted and shivered again. "Love you, y'know?"

"I do. And so do I," Aziraphale answered, laying one hand on Crowley's damp cheek.

He sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to share some warmth. "What a debut, huh? You don't seize to amaze me."

“I’ll try. I’ll...I’ll always try, Angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled again, feeling so spent and tired and unbelievably happy. 

"I'll pay it back to you, I promise," Aziraphale mumbled sleepily in the crook of Crowley’s neck. Oh he would 

Many times. And Crowley would as well, and there was time and space for so many declarations of love now. Aziraphale could feel a little sting in his eye. They were home. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much to everyone who has stuck out this long and joined us on this journey. This was an absolute treat to write with Sol, 10/10 would do it again! I was emotional the first time we finished the RP this is based off of and I find myself being sad again. It's good! It's great! So glad for this and thank you thank you thank you. - Waldos.


End file.
